HEIR  HAVNTS 


-NRLF 


B   M   313   Otfi 


-  V 


MABEL-  OSGOOD  •  WRIGHT 


The  Gift  of  Beatrix  Farrand 

to  the  General  Library 
University  of  California, Berkeley 


Ex 

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JONES 

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REEF  POINT  GARDENS 
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FLOWERS   AND    FERNS 
IN    THEIR    HAUNTS 


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COPYRIGHT,  1901 
BY  THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 


$@ount  {pleasant  printer? 

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Booft    10    £>rUicatfl>   to 

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(bp  to|)o0e  name  t&ere  i)anc0  a  tale) 
in  recognition  of  our  frien&0|>ip  of 
fifteen  pearu,  anU  of  |)er  intelligence  in 
ftnotoing  tol^rn  to  stanti  still 


INVITATION 

ILL  you  stroll  with  me  awhile  across 
the  fields  and  round  the  wood  edge 
in  search  of  flowers  and  ferns  ? 

I  offer  no  apology,  and  no  new 
thing  as  lure,  save  perhaps  the  point 
of  view  —  the  flower  in  the  landscape. 
Wild  flowers  taken  from  their  surround- 
ings and  considered  as  aggregations  of 
calyx,  corolla,  stamen  and  pistil  are  wholly  dif- 
ferent from  the  same  flowers  seen  in  their  native 
haunts.  Wild  Roses  clustered  in  a  crystal  bowl, 
like  their  more  robust  garden  sisters,  are  beautiful, 
but  they  lose  the  shy  loveliness  that  they  wore 
before  you  gathered  them  from  beside  the  mossy 
bars  of  the  old  pasture. 

The  Cardinal  Flower,  that  shows  its  red 
hood  along  the  waterways  or  stands  sentinel  to 
guard  the  Closed  Gentian  where  it  drowses  in 
moist  shade,  looks  dull  and  lifeless  when  massed 


Vlll  INVITATION 

in  your  stateliest  jar.  Anemones  hang  their  heads 
and  the  Blue  Gentian  closes  its  "fringed  eye- 
lids "  on  leaving  home. 

The  flower  in  its  haunt  is  a  part  of  the 
landscape,  a  tint  on  nature's  palette  not  to  be 
heedlessly  removed.  The  great  patches  of  red 
and  gold  Samphire  are  the  glory  of  the  autumn 
marshes;  plucked,  they  are  but  leafless  plants  of 
curious  structure,  chiefly  valued  in  their  green 
state  by  the  natives  for  pickling. 

Perchance  you  are  a  botanist,  knowing  all  plants 
by  name  and  attribute,  apt  in  Latin  and  techni- 
calities; have  you  ever  in  a  purely  friendly  sense 
visited  the  flowers  and  ferns  in  their  haunts  ?  I 
do  not  mean,  have  you  gone  in  search  of  a 
particular  plant  that  you  wished  to  study,  trans- 
ferred it  triumphantly  to  your  vasculum;  toiled 
over  it  patiently  and  finally  stowed  it  away  with 
its  life  pressed  out,  though  very  neatly  labeled. 
This  sort  of  acquaintance  is  that  of  the  reporter 
with  the  person  he  must  of  necessity  interview  to 
gain  special  information,  the  other  the  after  friend- 
ship of  those  between  whom  the  door  is  never 
closed. 


INVITATION  IX 

The  wild  flower  and  fern  is  only  to  be  truly 
known  where  it  creeps,  clings  or  sways  untroubled 
in  its  home.  If  you  may  not  follow  the  trail 
either  afoot,  awheel  or  on  horseback,  spare  an 
idle  hour  to  look  with  the  eye  of  the  mind  and 
the  camera  at  a  few  of  the  flowers  and  ferns  in 
their  haunts. 

M.  O.  W. 

WALDSTEIN,  March  30,  1901 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I.  THE  COMING  OF  SPRING i 

II.  ALONG  THE  WATERWAYS    .    ....  33 

III.  ESCAPED  FROM  GARDENS    .....  63 

IV.  IN  SILENT  WOODS 93 

V.  SOME  HUMBLE  ORCHIDS     .     .     .     .     .  123 

VI.   POISONOUS  PLANTS    . 157 

VII.  THE  FANTASIES  OF  FERNS.     .     /    .     .  185 
VIII.  FLOWERS  OF  THE  SUN    .,   ...     .     .  219 

IX.  A  COMPOSITE  FAMILY 243 

X.  WAYFARERS      .     .    ....    .     .     .  273 

XL  THE  DRAPERY  OF  VINES    .     ,     .   -,r    .  295 

XII.  AFTERMATH ,     .     ...  321 

INDEX  AND  GLOSSARY    ..*...  343 


ILLUSTRATORS'    NOTE 

THE   thanks  of  the   illustrators  for  valuable 
assistance    are    due   to    Miss    Mira    Lloyd 
Dock,    Miss    Martha     Buehler,    Professor 
F.    A.    Waugh,    Captain    Charles    Mcllvaine,    and 
particularly  to   Mr.  O.  P.  Beckley. 

The  full -page  plates  are  engraved  directly  from 
the  photographs.  The  text  cuts,  with  but  two 
exceptions,  have  been  drawn  over  the  original 
photographs,  showing  that  mechanical  accuracy 
and  artistic  effect  are  not  incompatible.  The 
initials  of  the  illustrators  indicate  the  part  taken 
by  each  in  the  work. 

LIST    OF    FULL -PAGE    PLATES  Pac|ng 

page 

A  Fern  Haunt  (frontispiece) M.  O.  W.    . 

The    Coming  of   Spring— False    Hellebore, 

Skunk  Cabbage,  etc J.  H.  McF.  .        4 

Jack-in-the-Pulpit,  Wild  Ginger,  etc.     .    . 

Spring  Beauty 

Wild  Mandrake 

Dutchman's  Breeches 

Shadbush 


Large  Blue  Flag 


12 
19 

22 

27 
30 

37 


(xiii) 


XIV  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing 

Pickerel  Weed  and  White  Water  Lilies    .  M.  O.  W.    .  ''44 

The  Lower  Pond— Lizard's  Tail "  .48 

Purple  Closed  Gentian J.  H.  McF.  .      53 

Rose  Mallow "  .      60 

"The  Kenilworth  Ivy  that  Clings"  ...  "  .64 

Bouncing  Betsy M.  O.  W.    .      69 

Elecampane      J.  H.  McF.  .      76 

Jerusalem  Artichoke,  or  Earth  Apple  ...  "  -83 

The  Flag  of  Truce— Flowering  Dogwood  .  "  -94 

"The  White  Wood  Trilliums" "  .96 

Mountain  Laurel "  .    101 

Indian  Pipe M.  O.  W.     .     108 

Oak-leaved  Gerardia "  .     113 

Tree-bridge "  .    128 

Showy  Orchis J.  H.  McF.  .     134 

Yellow  Moccasin  Flower "  .139 

Calopogon .    145 

Fly  Amanita M.  O.  W.    .     160 

Stramonium,  or  Jimson  Weed J.  H.  McF.  .    176 

The  Unfolding  of  Osmunda .185 

A  Glade  of  Cinnamon  Ferns "  .    192 

Rock  Polypody M.  O.  W.    .    197 

Christmas  Ferns .    204 

The  Silvery  Glint  of  Spleenwort J.  H.  McF.  .    209 

Beech  Ferns  in  the  Open .    215 

Maidenhair M.  O.  W.    .    218 

Prickly  Pear J.  H.  McF.  .    228 

Butterfly  Weed  and  Toad  Flax "  .236 

Common  Silkweed .    240 

Sunflower  Lane M.  O.  W.    .    246 

Black-eyed  Susan J.  H.  McF.  .    251 

Cat-tails  and  Swamp  Goldenrod .    256 

Brook  Sunflower .    260 

New  England  Aster "          .    264 


ILLUSTRATIONS  XV 

Facing 
page 

Ragged  Goldenrod J.  H.  McF.  .  269 

Thorns  by  the  River .  274 

A  Wild  Hedge— Red-berried  Elder  ...  .  279 

Elder  Flowers .282 

Wild  Bergamot .  287 

Wild  Lettuce .291 

Staghorn  Sumac .  294 

Clematis — Virgin's  Bower .  299 

Virginia  Creeper  —  "Throwing  its  lovely 

draperies" .  302 

The  Frost  Grape M.  O.  W.  .  305 

Balsam  Apple J.  H.  M"cF.  .  308 

Great  Bindweed,  or  Wild  Convolvulus  .  .  M.  O.  W.  .  316 

Cat-tails  Gone  to  Seed J.  H.  McF.  .  321 

Silkweed •  .  M.  O.  W.  .  325 

"The  Frost  Traceries  Upon  the  Window 

Panes" "  .332 


LIST    OF    TEXT    ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 

Nell  (dedication) M.  O.  W.    .  T 

Hepatica  (initial) J.  H.  McF.  .  vii 

Pussy  Willow  (initial) .  .  I 

Skunk  Cabbage M.  O.  W.    .  -* 

Marsh  Marigold J.  H.  McF.  .  n 

Trailing  Arbutus .  14 

Red  Wake  Robin     .15 

False  Solomon's  Seal .    »   .   .           "            .  17 

Violets M.  O.  W.    .  23 

Wild  Columbine .  25 

Spring  Beauty,  Bloodroot  and   Dutchman's 

Breeches "           .  28 

Wild  Geranium J.  H.  McF.  .  32 


XVI  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 

Turtlehead  (initial) J.  H.  McF.  .      33 

Button-bush M.  O.  W.    .      40 

Pitcher-plant J.  H.  McF.  .       -^ 

Arrowhead M.  O.  W.    .      4 

Swamp  Loosestrife,  growing -49 

Swamp  Loosestrife,  detail -5° 

Marsh  Samphire .      51 

Sweet  Pepper-bush 52 

Seaside  Gerardia .      59 

The  Lilac  House "  .      63 

Orange  Hawkweed .      68 

Live-forever  and  Cypress  Spurge M.  O.  W.    .      71 

Catnip  and  Thyme -75 

Blackberry  Lily J.  H.  McF.  .      78 

Coronilla M.  O.  W.    .      81 

Red  Day  Lily "  .      82 

The  Ruined  Chimney "  .      85 

Shinleaf  (initial) J.  H.  McF.  .      93 

Shooting  Star "  .      95 

Wild  Sarsaparilla "  .103 

Four-leaved  Milkweed "  .109 

Wild  Blue  Phlox "  .     m 

False  Beech  Drops M.  O.  W.    .    112 

Pipsissewa •II5 

Black  Cohosh J.  H.  McF.  .     116 

Ragged  Orchis  (initial) M.  O.  W.    .    123 

Pink  Moccasin  Flower J.  H.  McF.  .     132 

Yellow  Moccasin  Flower     . "  .187 

Twayblade M.  O.  W.    .    138 

Calopogon J.  H.  McF.  .     142 

Yellow  Fringed  Orchis "  .150 

Ladies'  Tresses,  Fringed  Gentian  and  Marsh 

Shield  Fern M.  O.  W.    .     153 

Rattlesnake  Plantain "  .    154 


ILLUSTRATIONS  XVli 

Page 

Showy  Lady's  Slipper J.  H.  McF.  .     156 

Poison  Hemlock  (initial) M.  O.  W.  .    157 

Poison  Ivy   . .162 

Poison  Ivy  and  Virginia  Creeper .163 

Poison  Sumac .168 

Jimson  Weed  (seed  pod)      J.  H.  McF.  .     175 

Climbing  Nightshade M.  O.  W.  .     177 

Black  Nightshade J.  H.  McF.  .     178 

Pokeberry .     179 

Staggerbush .     181 

Wild  Cherry .183 

Climbing  Fern M.  O.  W.  .    185 

Walking  Fern .188 

Brake  and  Colic-root .    .  J.  H.  McF.  .    191 

Royal  Fern "  -194 

Evergreen  Wood  Fern M.  O.  W.  .     196 

Christmas  Fern .198 

Lady  Fern .     199 

New  York  Fern "  .200 

Sensitive  Fern .    201 

Grape  Fern .    203 

Spinulose  Shield  Fern .    204 

Silver  Spleenwort .    205 

Hay-scented  Fern .    207 

Maidenhair  Spleenwort     .  ' .211 

Ebony  Spleenwort .    216 

Slender  Iris  (initial)       .    219 

Sundrops .    226 

Yellow  Star  Grass .    .    .    .  J.  H.  McF.  .    227 

Canada     Lily,     Late     Meadow     Rue     and 

Meadow  Sweet  Spirea J.  H.  McF.  •   229 

Red  Wood  Lily M.  O.  W.  .    231 

Turk's  Cap  Lily .232 

Meadow  Lilies .    233 


XV11I  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 

Purple  Gerardia M.  O.  W.    .    241 

Blue  Fringed  Gentian .    242 

Brook  Sunflower  (initial) "  .    243 

Boneset  and  Joe  Pye .    245 

Blue-stemmed  Wood  Goldenrod .    249 

Silver  Rod  and  Fragrant  Goldenrod     ...  .251 

Early  Purple  Aster J.  H.  McF.  .    256 

White  Heath  Aster M.  O.  W.    .    257 

White  Wood  Aster J.  H.  McF.  .    266 

Seaside  Goldenrod M.  O.  W.    .    269 

White  Wreath  Aster "  .270 

Blazing  Star J.  H.  McF.  .    271 

Wild  Crab  Apple "  .273 

Tansy M.  O.  W.    .    275 

Choke  Cherry "  .278 

Meadow  Sweet  Spirea .    280 

Rabbit's  Foot  Clover "  .285 

Steeplebush  and  Wild  Carrot "  .286 

Bayberry  and  Sweet  Fern .    289 

Purple- flowering  Raspberry .    290 

Pink  Knotweed .    292 

Wild  Convolvulus J.  H.  McF.  .    295 

Climbing  Hemp  weed M.O.W.    .    297 

Hyacinth  Bean •     300 

Trailing  Wild  Bean "  -303 

Trumpet  Honeysuckle .    306 

Mountain  Fringe J.  H.  McF.  .    309 

Wild  Yam M.  O.  W.    .    310 

Carrion  Flower •3I3 

Climbing  False  Buckwheat "  .314 

Jack-in-the-PuIpit  Berry  and  Winterberry 

(initial) .321 

Dogwood  Berries J.  H.  McF.  .    324 

Virginia  Creeper M.  O.  W.    .    327 


ILLUSTRATIONS  XIX 

Page 

Bittersweet J.  H.  McF.  .    329 

Partridge  Vine M.  O.  W.    .    331 

Spicebush  Berries •    333 

Witch  Hazel J.  H.  McF.  .    334 

Cedar  Berries M.  O.  W.    .    336 

Catbrier -    339 

The  Fire  Logs— Finis .341 


I 


THE  COMING  OF 
SPRING 

'HEN     Time    o'  Year     padlocked     his 
cabin    door    and    with    his    trout    pole 
under     his     arm     wafted     across     the 
meadow  path  until  he  vanished  like  a 
shadow    between    the    willows,   the    hillside 
people    knew    that,   whatever   other   signs    might 
fail,  Spring  was  surely   at   hand. 

Time  o'  Year  made  no  pretentions  to  weather 
prophecy  —  in  fact,  he  was  altogether  an  unpre- 
tentious mortal,  coming,  going,  and  biding  his 
own  time  silently,  like  the  spirit  of  some  straight 
white  frost -shaft.  Yet  his  smile  was  never  frosty. 
It  came  far  back  from  his  deep -set  eyes  and  quiv- 
ered among  his  wrinkles  whenever  he  was  ques- 
tioned about  the  state  of  the  woods,  the  height  of 
the  river  at  the  remoter  bridges  or  the  prospect  of 
trout  catching,  until  the  questioner  always  felt  that 
the  old  man  was  possessed  of  secrets  told  him  by 
no  one  but  the  Magician  himself,  and  which  he 
was  pledged  not  to  reveal. 


2  THE     COMING    OF    SPRING 

It  was  his  favorite  saying,  his  apology  for  any 
halt  in  the  progress  of  things,  that  had  given  him 
the  name  of  "Time  o'  Year,"  by  which  alone  I 
first  knew  him  —  a  name  also  in  full  accord  with 
his  cheerful  temper  and  his  loyalty  to  outdoor  life. 

"The  river  's  a  leetle  overcrowded  beyond  the 
glen,  but  none  too  full  for  the  time  o'  year.  Trout  's 
few  as  yet,  and  what  's  come  down  's  too  skart  and 
dazed  with  the  flood  to  see  a  fly,  but  that  's  what 
I  allus  reckon  on,  this  time  o'year!" 

If,  however,  you  spoke  of  the  nesting  place  of  a 
shy  bird  or  the  haunt  of  some  elusive  flower,  his 
attitude  would  instantly  change  and  he  would  subtly 
begin  to  sift  your  motives.  No  rustic  gossip  he, 
to  tattle  of  woodland  doings  to  the  merely  curious. 
If  he  deemed  his  questioner  a  collector,  seeking  to 
despoil  the  woods  of  flower  and  feather  either  for 
gain  or  private  hoarding,  that  person's  fate  was 
sealed.  Should  a  botanist  appear,  provided  with 
microscope  and  vasculum,  his  contempt  was  hardly 
less  deep,  and  he  would  reveal  the  location  of  noth- 
ing rarer  than  a  field  of  Buttercups,  perhaps,  feign- 
ing ignorance  of  plant  lore,  yet  muttering  to  him- 
self: "Schoolma'ams!  I  know  'em!  poking  their 
fingers  into  posies'  mouths  to  feel  their  teeth,  and 
splittin'  'em  open  to  count  their  ribs!  Then  like 


THE     COMING    OF    SPRING  3 

as  not  yanking  the  rest  up  by  the  roots  to  dry  'em 
into  hay.  Yes,  I  've  caught  'em  at  it  and  seen  it 
done  ! 

"Sometimes  they  say  they  want  my  flowers  to 
paint  'em  into  pictures.  'Paint  away,'  sez  I, 
'they  're  here  ready  to  sit  for  ye  from  frost -leaving 
to  frost -coming,  but  look  out  ye  don't  spoil  the 
pictures  God  's  filled  the  earth  with,  in  so  doin'.' 

"The  names  they  give  'em,  too!  Long  enough 
to  make  a  man  think  the  woods  is  full  of  diseases 
like  what  the  town  doctor  fetches  over  to  the  hill- 
top folks  when  they  have  colic!" 

By  "hilltop  folks"  he  meant  the  summer  people 
a  half  day's  ride  away,  who  were  the  bane  of  his 
usually  placid  life.  It  was  they  who,  eager  for 
"local  color,"  insisted  in  intruding  upon  his  cabin, 
snapping  their  impertinent  little  cockney  cameras  at 
everything  within  range.  Asking  questions  as  to 
where  he  obtained  his  delicate  fishing  rod,  how  he 
learned  the  art  of  tying  flies  of  original  design;  also 
probing  his  past  and  present  hermit  way  of  life 
ruthlessly.  Why  had  he  let  his  farm  on  the  hilltop 
go  into  other  hands?  Was  it  still  his,  or  had  he 
given  it  up  for  taxes? 

Alack  !  Why  is  it  that  money  and  good  breed- 
ing are  accumulated  in  an  inverse  ratio?  The  peo- 


4  THE    COMING    OF    SPRING 

pie  who  come  out  to  conquer  the  land  by  purchase 
so  often  have  only  the  one,  the  people  born  on  the 
soil  the  other.  The  native  New  Englander  certainly 
has  a  highly  developed  bump  of  curiosity,  which 
properly  cultivated  is  neighborliness,  but  before  it  is 
placed  the  right  of  the  individual  to  privacy. 

Doubtless  there  were  many  things  that  the 
hilltop  folk  desired  to  know  concerning  the  old 
man,  whose  forbears  for  two  centuries  had  tilled 
the  soil  that  now  lay  a  fallow  waste  of  wild  grass 
and  field  flowers.  The  middle-aged  remembered 
his  young  wife,  the  daughter  of  the  glen  miller, 
and  their  only  child,  a  restless,  questioning  boy 
who  had  disappeared  short  of  forty  years  before, 
some  said  with  a  peddler,  others  to  go  to  the  civil 
war.  Was  he  alive  or  dead?  No  one  knew.  Par- 
cels were  left  at  the  cabin  at  rare  intervals  by  the 
carrier,  and  the  old  man  had  many  little  things 
not  of  local  origin,  like  his  fishing  rod  and  gun. 
But  his  neighbors  asked  him  no  questions,  and 
he  had  remained  a  myth  of  the  fifteen -mile  circle 
that  swings  around  Tree -bridge,  Lonetown,  the 
Glen  and  the  Hollow. 

One  day  in  middle  April,  after  a  winter  so  long 
and  cold  that  it  had  almost  numbed  even  the 
memory  of  growing  things,  Nell  and  I  went  out  to 


THE      COMING      OF      SPRING 
False    Hellebore — Adder' s-Tongue  —  Skunk    Cabbage 


THE     COMING     OF     SPRING  5 

look  for  Spring.  That  is  to  say,  I  did  the  looking 
and  Nell,  being  a  pony,  the  walking,  a  comfortably 
cooperative  arrangement,  for  like  many  prospectors 
we  went  far  afield  for  what  we  might  have  found 
close  at  hand.  But  when  the  Spring  thirst  for 
outdoors  comes  upon  one,  the  hunting  cools  the 
fever  of  longing  nearly  as  much  as  the  finding. 

Up  and  out  of  the  house!  Away  from  houses! 
Away  from  the  pleasantness  of  the  planted  and 
sheltered  garden  things  that  do  not  indicate  the 
pulsings  of  wild  nature!  Nell  snorted  and  pranced 
with  joy,  experiencing  a  sort  of  horse  second - 
childhood  as  the  keen  breeze  scattered  tiny  tufts 
of  her  loosened  winter  coat  to  feather  wayside 
briars  and  offer  early  birds  rare  bargains  in  all- 
wool  nest  lining.  Myrtle  warblers  flitted  along 
the  waysides  mingling  the  remains  of  winter  worn 
Bay  and  Poison  Ivy  berries  with  fresh  ants  in  a 
sort  of  Spring  salad.  Fox  sparrows  and  white- 
throats  sent  up  an  occasional  retrospective  melody 
from  pastures  where  the  snow  had  held  the  seeded 
grasses  against  the  wind's  caprices,  and  quail  ran 
noiselessly  by  through  the  undergrowth  or  told 
their  names  boldly  from  a  fence  rail.  It  was  still 
two  hours  before  noon  when  we  found  ourselves 
over  the  hills  and  well  within  Time  o'  Year's 


6  THE     COMING     OF     SPRING 

country,  on  a  sunny  cross-road  that  led  through 
Lonetown. 

Ah!  the  silence!  Yet  after  all  the  deepest 
quiet  is  made  by  the  perfect  harmony  of  subdued 
sounds.  Dry  leaves  scurried  along  the  fences; 
then  the  rush  of  the  distant  mill  stream  separated 
itself  from  the  stillness;  next  the  trickle  of  a 
near-by  brook  that  in  its  spring  madness  had  lost 
its  reckoning  for  a  space  and,  after  turning  a  low 
meadow  into  a  pond,  gropingly  found  its  rocky 
pathway  through  the  woods  again.  Two  gray 
rabbits  crossed  the  road  with  long  leaps,  and  a 
light  footstep  overtook  us.  It  was  Time  o'  Year 
with  his  trout  pole,  emerging  from  a  furry -clawed 
clump  of  Pussy  Willows,  that  skirt  the  meadow,  to 
follow  the  brook  again. 

I  ventured  to  ask  him,  "Does  Arbutus  still  grow 
in  the  woods  by  the  Hollow  road?"  Dropping 
his  rod  so  that  he  rested  on  it  like  a  staff,  he 
looked  at  me  critically,  the  shrewd  expression  that 
came  over  his  face  as  he  spied  my  camera  and 
appurtenances  changing  to  one  of  undoubted  satis- 
faction as  he  discovered  neither  spade,  trowel,  basket 
or  tin  box;  yet  he  would  not  commit  himself,  and 
merely  said,  "Did  it  use  to  grow  there?"  moving 
on  as  he  spoke. 


THE     COMING    OF    SPRING  ^ 

There  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  so  I  quickly 
told  him  that  I  had  not  come  to  pull  to  pieces  or 
transplant,  that  the  flowers  of  those  woods  and 
hillsides  were  old  friends  of  mine  whose  names 
were  written  long  ago  in  both  brain  and  heart. 
That  now  I  only  came  to  see  them  in  their 
haunts;  my  quest  being  of  the  bird  in  the  tree, 
the  flower  in  the  landscape, —  the  spirit,  not  the 
letter  of  the  law  ;  the  meaning,  not  the  anatomy. 
For  a  moment  I  feared  that  Time  o'  Year  did  not 
understand  my  explanation,  born  of  the  first  real 
touch  of  Spring  and  my  desire  to  propitiate  him. 
He  did,  however,  but  his  ideas  came  to  him  more 
by  thought  than  through  words.  "Arbutus  does  grow 
yet  in  the  Holler  woods,  only  folks  don't  think  it 
does  or  there  would  n't  be  any.  Come  and  see!" 
Refusing  the  proffered  ride  he  strode  up  a  wood 
path,  taking  a  short  cut  while  we  followed  slowly, 
Nell  halting  now  and  then  to  snatch  at  a  tuft 
of  young  grass. 

The  change  of  flower  growth  from  Spring  to 
Fall  is  made  no  less  wonderful  by  its  regularity, 
and  the  bareness  of  Spring  is  as  different  from  the 
nakedness  of  Winter  as  slimness  is  from  thinness. 
The  greater  number  of  the  early  blooms  are  pale, 
and  hide  in  the  grass  or  under  dead  leaves  ;  they 


8 


THE     COMING     OF    SPRING 


have  less  landscape  value  therefore  than  the  flowers 
of  Summer  and  Autumn  that  crowd  the  fields  and 
march  up  to  the  roadsides  to  demand  attention. 

The   first    three   to    appear,   sometimes   in   rapid 
succession    and    sometimes   together,    precede    even 
their    own    leaves,    the    Skunk    Cabbage 
having    its     rank     flowers    enclosed     in     a 
pointed     wrapping     like     the 
bouquets    of     the     Madeleine 
flower  market,  while  the  flesh 
tints  of  the  Trailing  Arbutus 
and     the     lavender    or    white 
Hepaticas     are    enhanced     by 
the  dark -toned  resistant  leaves 
of  the  past  season. 

Wise  Magician,  so  to  set 
your  scenery,  while  the  peep- 
--  ing  marsh  frogs  twang  away 
on  a  single  fiddle -string,  as 
befits  the  first  arrivals  in  an 
orchestra!  Vivid  color  and  wild  music  would  be 
a  too  abrupt  transition  from  the  season  of  etched 
outlines,  and  silence  that  is  only  broken  by  the 
calling  of  crow,  owl  and  jay,  the  snapping  of  icicles 
and  the  winds  whistling.  The  Magician,  though 
he  keeps  flower  and  leaf -bud  ready  so  that  he  may 


THE     COMING     OF    SPRING  9 

unfold  rapidly,  is  the  very  prince  of  modulators,  and 
does  nothing  jarringly. 

Time  o'  Year  rejoined  us  in  the  lane  with  its 
grass -divided  wheel  tracks.  On  the  right  the  bank 
sloped  to  the  trout  stream;  on  the  left  it  was  part 
of  a  rocky,  wooded  hillside.  The  bushes  were 
almost  leafless  and  the  usually  narrow  stream  was 
again  trespassing  on  the  lowlands. 

"It  might  be  November,"  I  said,  leaving  Nell 
and  going  down  to  the  water's  edge. 

"No,  it  might  not:  look!"  said  Time  o'  Year, 
jerking  his  head  backward  over  his  shoulder. 

There,  almost  at  my  feet,  unharmed  by  the 
drift  of  the  stream,  was  a  Skunk  Cabbage,  its 
thick,  green  leaves  so  far  developed  as  to  show 
that  it  had  been  long  in  bloom.  Beside  it  grew 
a  stalk  of  False  Hellebore,  with  its  crumpled  leaves 
fast  unfolding,  while  underneath  the  spotted  twin- 
leaves  of  a  few  plants  of  Adder's-Tongue  bore  the 
stalks  that  held  each  its  single  yellow  flower. 

"While  we  were  watching  for  Spring  on  the 
hill-tops,  she  has  crept  in  by  the  waterways  and 
entrenched  her  forces  like  a  good  commander,  and 
yet  as  often  as  she  does  it,  we  are  always  surprised," 
I  said;  but  my  companion  had  again  disappeared. 
Yes,  and  before  one  can  half  realize  the  coming  of 


IO  THE     COMING    OF    SPRING 

Spring,  the  flower  procession  is  upon  us  and  march- 
ing by,  music  and  all.  Of  course  the  memory  of 
it  remains,  and  often  gives  us  back  what  we  did 
not  visualize  at  the  time.  It  is  then  that  the 
camera  comes  to  our  aid, —  that  silent  companion 
whose  eye  translates  the  doings  of  nature  truth- 
fully, without  gossip,  yet  always  in  an  indulgent 
spirit  —  being  in  itself  a  lesser  magician,  bringing 
the  frolicking  squirrel,  the  brooding  bird  and  the 
delicate  traceries  of  flower  and  fern  within  the  very 
glow  of  the  study  fireside,  yet  leaving  them  unmo- 
lested in  their  haunts. 

One  day  I  had  found  a  plant  of  Blue  Fringed 
Gentian  in  a  place  where  before  it  was  unknown. 
I  thought,  "If  I  pick  the  flowers  they  will  close, 
and,  being  an  annual,  the  place  will  know  the 
wanderer  no  more.  I  will  take  its  portrait  for 
my  photo -herbarium."  Then  when  I  had  left  the 
place  and  it  was  too  late,  I  fell  to  wondering 
what  other  stray  plants  might  have  been  its  com- 
panions in  the  sodden  meadow  where  the  bog 
moss  was  ankle  deep,  for  I  had  seen  only  the 
Gentian. 

The  answer  to  my  thoughts  flashed  back  next 
day  from  the  developed  plate,  where  I  found 
Forget-me-nots,  Grass  of  Parnassus,  three  kinds 


THE     COMING     OF     SPRING 


II 


of  Violet  leaves,  with  Ladies'  Tresses,  Moonwort, 
and  Crested  Shield  Ferns,  all  grouped  around  the 
Gentian ! 

Time  o'  Year  whistled  from  far  up  the  lane, 
and  as  I  pulled  myself  back  to  the  road  a  small 
branch  struck  me  lightly  across  the  face.  It  was 
a  spray  of  Spice  Bush  thick  with  its  yellow - 
stamened  flowers,  that, 
coming  upon  bare  twigs, 
remind  one  strongly  of 
stunted  Witch  Hazel 
bloom.  I  stooped  to  free 
my  skirt  from  Catbrier 
thorns,  and  glanced  back- 
ward to  where  the  sun 
shone  full  upon  the 
sunken  strip  of  cleared 
land  that  caught  the  brook's  overflow.  There 
glistened  golden  tufts  of  Marsh  Marigold,  the  first 
true  pledge  of  the  sun  to  the  marshes  even  as  the 
Dandelion  is  to  the  fields. 

Again  Time  o'  Year  whistled,  and  Nell  left 
browsing  to  fall  into  a  reluctant  trot  as  we  went 
on  to  join  him.  He  was  sitting  on  a  chestnut 
stump,  half  a  mile  further  up  the  lane.  Motioning 
me  to  tie  Nell  to  some  bars  at  the  entrance  to  the 


12  THE     COMING    OF    SPRING 

pasture  on  the  opposite  side,  he  began  to  scramble 
through  the  underbrush  toward  the  woods.  Cat- 
brier  again,  coils  and  ropes  of  it, — surely  the 
Magician  was  the  inventor  of  barbed  wire  and 
protected  much  of  his  property  with  it  before  man 
wore  tearable  clothes!  Catbrier  helps  to  keep  the 
balance  even  now  in  woodland  economy.  The 
rabbit  may  run  under  where  the  fox  meets  a 
barrier,  the  ruffed  grouse  can  slip  safely  to  shelter, 
while  the  hawk,  that  dropped  too  boldly,  is 
arguing  with  the  hooked  thorns  that  pluck  tufts 
of  his  feathers  to  rags,  or  sometimes  hold  him 
altogether  a  prisoner,  until  his  lifeless  wings  flap 
to  and  fro  in  the  wind  like  a  scarecrow. 

Once  free  of  wayside  underbrush  we  entered 
a  region  of  Hemlocks,  Oaks  mingled  with  other 
forest  trees,  and  rich  leaf -mould,  ankle  deep,  and 
crusted  by  the  unchanged  leaves  of  last  year's 
shedding,  made  an  elastic  footing.  Straightway 
we  were  greeted  by  a  single  cluster  of  white 
Hepaticas. 

"Snow  Flowers,  I  call  these,"  said  Time  o' 
Year,  gaining  more  precise  speech.  "I  've  often 
found  them,  when  the  sun  's  come  out  hot  the 
end  of  March,  in  little  thawed  places  in  front  of 
rocks  when  the  snow  was  lying  thick  on  the 


THE    COMING    OF    SPRING  13 

north  side.  It  's  best  to  allers  look  on  the  south 
side  of  things,  specially  this  time  o'  year." 

Much  of  the  older  growth  had  been  cut  away 
several  seasons  before,  and  a  maze  of  dead  branches, 
left  where  the  trunks  had  been  trimmed,  made 
progress  very  slow.  Ledge  rocks  as  well  as  mossy 
boulders  protruded  everywhere,  and  now  and  then 
a  hidden  spring  trickled  down  drop  by  drop,  its 
course  being  revealed  by  the  greenness  of  the  moss. 
In  one  such  spot  were  a  few  bunches  of  the  pure 
white  fragile -petaled  Bloodroot,  the  palmate  leaves 
having  hardly  loosed  their  hold  upon  the  flower  - 
stalks  that  pushed  up  between.  Wood  Anemones 
nodded  close  by,  and  in  the  shallow  earth  on  a 
rock  ledge  perched  the  resetted  leaves  of  early  Saxi- 
frage, with  some  scattering  flower-stalks.  Nothing 
as  yet  in  abundance,  but  promise  everywhere. 

On  went  Time  o'  Year  without  speaking  un- 
til, leading  straight  through  the  sharp  breastworks 
of  a  great  fallen  hemlock,  from  whose  branches 
hung  the  old  nest  of  a  parula  warbler,  like  a  shred 
of  southern  moss  blown  to  northern  woods,  he 
halted.  Kneeling,  he  brushed  away  the  leaves  and 
twigs  from  the  ground  before  him.  Beneath  them 
was  a  thick  mat  of  leathery  leaves  ;  some  dark 
green  and  bronze,  others  delicately  veined.  Vine- 


THE    COMING    OF    SPRING 


like  branches  trailed  from  the  mass,  and  here  and 
there  nestled  the  clustering  Arbutus  flowers  that 
breathe  the  first  wood  incense  of  the  year.  This 
truly  is  a  blossom  that  must  be  visited  in  its  haunts 
to  be  known  save  by  name.  Torn  up  and  bunched 

in  nosegays,  it  loses  the 
most  delicate  quality  of  its 
perfume  and  all  the  char- 
acteristics of  its  growth. 

I  also  knelt  and  buried 
my  face    in  the  woodland 
bouquet,     and    when    I 
looked  up  Time   o'  Year 
was    watching   me    and    wore 
his  smile  from  afar  off  ;    then 
we  each  perched  on   a  stump 
and    continued    to   gaze   until   an 
ovenbird    broke   the   reverie    with 
his  call. 

"Does  it  always  bloom  as  early 
as  this  ? "  I  asked,  after  I  had  looked  and  sniffed 
to  my  heart's  content. 

"You  can  never  say  just  when,  about  posies," 
answered  Time  o'  Year,  deliberately.  "Some  years 
one  kind  is  first  and  then  another.  I  us'  ter  allow 
that  Skunk  Cabbages  led  off,  but  one  time  we  had 


THE     COMING    OF    SPRING 


a  warm  Feb'ury  and  that  started  'em  up  rash- 
like  ;  then  along  in  early  March  it  froze  so  hard 
it  nearly  killed  the  'coons  in  their  holes,  and  be- 
fore those  cabbages  got  their  courage  and  their 


RED    WAKE     ROBIN 

blood  up  again,  Arbutus  was  out,  and  Wake 
Robins  and  Shadbush,  and  a  different  sort  o' 
Violet  for  every  finger  on  your  hand!  You  see, 
it  depends  on  the  kind  o'  season  we  get  and  the 
way  things  lie  to  the  sun,  beside  the  bent  of  their 
own  natures. 

"Take   birds,  now,   and  they  come  up  to  time 


1 6  THE     COMING    OF    SPRING 

likelier.  The  swallows  have  n't  missed  their  week, 
the  last  in  April,  for  coming  to  my  old  barn  on  the 
hill,  not  since  I  can  remember.  But  then  they 
can  move  themselves  and  reckon  things  out  a  bit 
while  the  posies  have  to  sit  still  until  the  sun  calls 
them  above  ground.  They  jest  do  as  they  're  told 
and  don't  hustle  and  worry.  That  's  why  I  think 
they  're  so  restin'  to  brood  on  ;  but  bless  yer,  it 
stands  to  reason  that  they  must  come  variable  and 
uncertain,  specially  at  this  time  o'  year." 

"Now,  here  's  red  Wake  Robin,"  he  continued, 
leading  me  a  few  yards  back  to  where  a  low  spot 
made  a  division  between  two  hills.  "On  the  west 
and  north  side  of  the  woods  you  need  n't  look  for 
it  till  May,  when  we  get  the  big  white  kind  over 
on  the  hill  -  slope  above  the  bridge.  Then  the 
Jacks  -  in  -  the  -  Pulpit  and  the  Wild  Ginger  are 
hustlin',  along  with  Solomon's  Seals,  Bellwort,  and 
Blue -flags  in  the  wet  places,  and  the  Red -bells 
have  most  driven  the  Saxifrage  off  the  rocky  places. 
Now  only  the  south  medder  's  showin'  life  and  the 
north  's  as  bare  as  yer  hand." 

There  was  the  handsome  but  evil -scented  Wake 
Robin,  surely  enough,  and  more  Bloodroot,  while 
the  lily -leaved  stalks  and  feathery  flowers  of  the 
False  Solomon's  Seal  were  foreshadowed  only  by 


THE     COMING    OF    SPRING 


thick  green  wands  that  everywhere  pierced  the  earth 
of  the  moist  copse.  I  ventured  to  ask  Time  o'  Year 
where  he  had  learned  the  accepted  popular  names 
of  so  many  of  the  flowers.  For  almost  all  rural 
nomenclature  is  indefinite  to  the  verge  of  confu- 
sion, and  Red-bell,  a  local  name  for  Red  Columbine 
or  Aquilegta  Canadensis,  was  his  only 
slip. 

Hesitating    at    first,    his    usual 
habit,   he    said:   "A   piece   back,   it 
might  be  ten  years,  a  schoolma'am 
came  to  stop  over 
our  way   for   her 
health.    Our  doc- 
tor,  the  old   one 
that  's  dead  now 
and    has    that 
stone  arch  up  in 
the    hill    buryin' 
ground,    told     her    to 
quit  medicine  and  get 
outdoors,    which     she 
did  ;    and  likin'  flow- 
ers and  lookin'  like — 
that    is,   favorin'   some    one   I 
onct  knew,  I  showed  her  what 

_ 


1 8  THE    COMING    OF    SPRING 

I  could.  She  told  me  some  names  that  I  could  n't 
recollect  and  did  n't  want  to,  and  when  I  told  her 
so  she  laughed,  and  learned  me  others  that  had 
sense  in  'em. 

"When  she  went  away  she  left  me  her  study  - 
book  with  'em  all  marked  out  plain  in  red  ink,  so  I 
should  n't  forget.  I  've  always  hoped  maybe  she  'd 
come  again ! "  Here  was  a  revelation !  Most  people 
thought  Time  o'  Year  half-witted,  from  his  silence. 
Who  had  ever  heard  him  speak  so  much  before  ? 
But  as  I  turned  to  ask  another  question,  he  rose, 
and  quickly  disappeared  in  the  direction  opposite  to 
which  we  had  come  to  the  wood.  The  warmth  of 
the  sun  suggested  returning  to  the  highway  by  the 
old  logging  road  skirting  the  southern  slope  of  the 
woods,  and  through  the  south  meadows  that  Time 
o'  Year  had  said  were  showing  signs  of  life,  rather 
than  by  the  barren  lane. 

As  I  worked  my  way  back  to  the  bars  where 
Nell  was  tied  and  scanned  the  ground  closely, 
there  were  signs  of  growth  on  every  side,  but  held 
in  abeyance  as  if  waiting  a  signal.  I  touched  the 
earth  where  the  fists  of  sturdy  Cinnamon  Fern 
were  striving  to  push  through  ;  it  was  dry  and 
hard.  "Rain,  rain,  rain!"  peeped  the  marsh  frogs 
from  below,  as  a  cloud  crossed  the  sun. 


THE     COMING    OF    SPRING  IQ 

True,  I  thought,  Spring  will  not  shake  her 
garments  to  the  breeze  and  dance  and  sing  in  full 
abandonment  without  her  baptism.  Earth  and  sun 
are  ready,  but  water  must  complete  the  creative  trio. 
But  where  was  Nell  ?  There  were  the  bars,  with 
only  the  neck  strap  tethered  to  them. 

"Goose,"  I  said  to  myself  as  I  looked,  "you 
were  so  excited  by  the  prospects  of  finding 
Arbutus  that  you  simply  noosed  Nell  instead  of 
pulling  the  strap  through  the  bit.  If  you  have 
to  walk  home  and  find  your  very  best  camera 
sprinkled  in  sections  along  the  way  you  will  have 
no  one  but  yourself  to  blame!" 

But  Nell  had  merely  freed  herself,  in  resentment 
at  being  tied  instead  of  wholly  trusted,  and  was 
grazing  along  a  little  beyond  the  turn,  looking  over 
her  shoulder  every  few  minutes  in  the  direction 
where  I  had  disappeared.  The  chaise  and  its  con- 
tents were  right  side  up,  and  upon  the  seat  lay  a 
single  sprig  of  Arbutus,  a  wand  of  blossoming 
Shadbush,  and  two  exquisitely  spotted  brook  trout 
resting  on  a  few  dry  beech  leaves.  How  had  the 
old  man  placed  them  there? 

"Well  done,"  I  said  to  Nell,  rubbing  her  nose 
with  my  cheek.  "Time  o'  Year  approves  of  us 
and  believes  that  we  are  honest  folk,  so  he  has 


20  THE     COMING    OF    SPRING 

left  a  sign  and  given  us  the  freedom  of  his  coun- 
try. Do  you  know  what  that  means  for  us,  Nell, 
this  coming  to  find  the  flowers  in  their  homes? 

"It  means  days  in  wood  and  meadow,  by  river 
and  wayside,  from  the  sea  gardens  up  through  Lone- 
town  to  the  glen.  It  means  sunburn  and  thunder 
showers,  freckles,  brier  scratches,  nettle  stings  and 
mosquito  bites,  —  but  oh,  such  deep  sleep  in  the 
nights  that  follow  those  days!  And,  Nell,  we  must 
come  often  now;  we  must  visit  these  unspoiled 
places  week  by  week  while  yet  we  may,  for  only 
here  can  we  find  the  natural  haunts  of  things.  Be- 
fore axe,  plow  and  quarry  drill  drive  us  out  we 
will,  instead  of  plucking  and  uprooting,  make  pic- 
tures of  all  this  loveliness  —  wind  and  weather  aid- 
ing," I  added  humbly,  for  the  image  of  a  swallow 
on  the  wing  is  not  more  impossible  to  capture  than 
that  of  a  pendulous  flower  when  the  wind  is  abroad. 

Nell  only  whinnied  and  sniffed  the  breeze,  yet 
surely  the  most  intelligent  sympathy  is  that  which 
does  not  divert  one's  thoughts  or  jar  a  happy  mood; 
so  we  turned  in  our  tracks  and  began  our  zigzag 
return  through  the  south  meadows  to  the  high- 
way. 

Presently  the  brush  grew  thinner  and  the  sun 
filtered  steadily  through  it.  A  startled  whippoor- 


THE    COMING    OF    SPRING  21 

will,  who  had  been  sleeping  almost  as  close  to  a 
branch  as  the  bark  itself,  suddenly  divided  himself 
from  his  perch,  and,  unmindful  of  the  early  hour, 
gave  his  weird  cry  many  times.  Nell  stopped  short, 
in  astonishment. 

Surely  this  was  the  time  of  first  things;  a  day  of 
beginnings!  The  whippoorwilPs  cry  was  startling, 
and  as  my  eyes  followed  the  bat -like  downward 
swoop  with  which  he  disappeared  in  the  shadows, 
they  rested  on  the  first  flower  landscape  of  the  year. 

Stretching  backward  from  the  open  toward  the 
young  growth  of  saplings  was  a  glade  starred  by  the 
delicate  Spring  Beauty,  whose  rose -penciled  white 
petals  open  freely  to  the  sun,  but  furl  on  being 
picked  almost  as  quickly  as  the  leaves  of  the  Sensi- 
tive Plant.  Here  was  a  flower  of  itself  inconspicu- 
ous, yet  when  massed  in  its  haunts  the  very  eye  of 
the  landscape. 

What  a  region  for  Violets!  Dry  woods,  moist 
woods,  hillside  and  meadow,  furnish  food  and  lodg- 
ing for  a  dozen  members  of  that  shy  family  which 
never  trusts  its  secrets  to  anything  but  the  earth, 
many  species  burrowing  unopened  and  independent 
flower-buds  into  the  ground  itself  to  ripen  seed 
and  plant  it  in  strict  seclusion. 

The   first-born   of   all,   the   little    Blue    Palmate 


22  THE    COMING    OF    SPRING 

Violet,  was  already  wide  awake  and  smiling,  and 
the  three  Whites  were  sending  out  a  few  stray  flow- 
ers to  try  if  the  air  was  warm  enough  to  stir  the 
blue  blood  in  their  veins.  The  smallest  of  these, 
Blanda,  is  our  only  native  Violet  that  has  a  sugges- 
tion of  perfume  other  than  the  pungent  birch  odor 
shared  alike  by  Violets  and  Pansies.  The  Canada 
Violet  is  the  tallest  of  the  trio,  but  its  blossoms  are 
less  distinctly  white  and  sometimes  might  be  mis- 
taken for  common  Blue  Violets  gone  pale,  while 
the  Lance-leaved  has  stiffness  for  a  characteristic; 
stiff,  narrow  leaves  and  a  way  of  holding  its  bearded 
purple -veined  petals  primly  erect. 

A  little  later  and  the  Bird's-Foot  Violet,  of  rich 
color  and  finely  cut  leaves,  will  be  on  the  hillside, 
creeping  toward  the  drier  side  of  the  woods,  where 
lives  its  downy  yellow  cousin,  with  straggling,  leafy 
stalks  and  flowers  the  color  of  Celandine.  In  the 
lower  springy  woods,  between  old  logs  and  mossy 
stones,  the  paler  Smooth  Yellow  Violet  will  greet 
May -day  under  the  shade  of  giant  Jack -in -the - 
Pulpits  and  have  for  company  the  strange  Wild 
Ginger  blossoms  that  spend  their  brief  existence 
ear  to  earth,  as  if  listening  for  a  footstep. 

In  short,  one  might  talk  a  day  away  about  the 
tribe  of  Violet  and  not  be  done  with  it.  No 


THE     COMING    OF    SPRING 


other  familiar  plant  of  the  near-by  woods  and  fields 
wears  such  diversity  of  leaf -shapes,  the  leaf -type  so 
often  overshading  that  of  the  flower  as  to  give  the 
name  and  identify  the 
plant  after  the  bloom- 
ing has  passed. 

The  old  road, 
being  of  decay- 
ing slabs  ides , 
made  it  necessary 
for  me  to  lead 
Nell,  as  it  was 
too  full  of  pit- 
falls for  even 
that  clever  four- 
foot.  What  was 
that  yonder,  in  a  second  lightly  shaded  place, 
sloping  southward  like  the  haunt  of  the  Spring 
Beauty?  Maidenhair  Ferns  breaking  the  ground  ? 
No;  a  more  sturdy  shaft,  growing  upward,  but  not 
yet  expanded.  Ah,  one  leaf  reveals  it  all!  In  a 
few  weeks,  two  or  three  at  most,  the  soft  green 
umbrellas  of  the  Mandrake  or  May  Apple  will  be 
sheltering  each  its  white -capped  flower  from  sun 
and  rain,  as  it  takes  its  place  in  the  great  spring 
flower -market  of  outdoors. 


24  THE    COMING    OF    SPRING 

Ah,  for  the  chance  to  sit  wide-eyed  in  that  mar- 
ket place  and  watch  the  procession  enter!  To-day 
come  the  heralds  and  outriders  and  the  heart  beats 
high  with  expectancy,  yet,  plan  as  one  may,  one's 
dealings  with  the  god  Outdoors  are  always  uncer- 
tain. In  this  itself  lies  no  small  fascination. 

To-day  we  have  met  Spring  as  she  timidly  enters 
by  the  valleys.  If  a  few  weeks  pass  before  Nell 
and  I  can  return  to  Time  o'  Year's  woods,  Spring 
will  have  shown  herself  bravely  on  the  hilltops  and 
be  waving  her  green  banners  from  every  nook  that 
holds  a  thimbleful  of  soil  from  which  she  can  raise 
her  standard  of  fertility;  for  every  ambitious  rock- 
cleft  manages  to  hold  a  leaf  or  two  in  middle  May. 

That  is  the  time  when  the  early  and  the  late 
flowers  meet  each  other  and  salute,  one  advancing, 
the  other  retreating,  through  the  company  of  con- 
servative intermediates.  Then  while  we  must 
search  carefully  in  moist  woods  for  Dwarf  Ginseng, 
Trientalis,  Baneberry,  Sarsaparilla,  Wintergreen,  Me- 
deola  and  Mitrewort,  other  flowers  are  warming  the 
soft  green  of  the  open  landscape  with  splashes  of 
color. 

Then  it  is  that  the  Columbine  begins  its  reign 
of  fire  among  the  granite  rocks  of  old  hillside  pas- 
tures, and  the  gorgeous  Painted  Cup  carries  the 


THE     COMING    OF    SPRING 


same  color  scheme  across  wet  meadows  under  the 
very  eye  of  the  sun. 

This  last  is  a  misnamed  flower  that  must  be 
known  in  its  haunts,  where  its  darting  tongues  of 
flame  outblaze  even  the  autumn  Cardinal  Flower. 
It  is  not  a  cup -shaped  flower,  and  the  color  is  not 
in  the  bloom  itself,  which  is  pale  yellow  and  akin 
to  Wood  Betony,  but  in  the  red  stem -leaves  that 
mingle  with  the  blossoms.  This  flower  is  a  thing 
of  the  landscape.  A  single  stalk  is  merely  curious ; 
a  meadow  aflame  with  it 
is  like  fire  creeping  among 
autumn  grasses. 

So  is  it  also  with  the 
delicate,  pale  purple,  five- 
petaled  flower  of  the  Wild 
Geranium.  A  single  stalk 
is  often  ragged,  showing 
buds  and  overblown  blos- 
soms at  once ;  but  its  color 
is  most  striking  when  seen 
in  masses  in  open  fields 
or  along  the  lighter  wood 
edges,  where  it  remains 
in  perfection  well  into 
June.  In  fact,  these  three 


26  THE     COMING    OF    SPRING 

flowers  identify  themselves  so  thoroughly  with  the 
season's  landscape  that  if  some  random  questioner 
asks,  "What  was  that  bank  of  scarlet  that  I  saw 
to-day  among  the  rocks  as  I  came  on  in  the  train?  " 
it  is  perfectly  safe  to  answer  "Columbines." 

"And  the  great  patch  of  the  same  color  in  a 
low  pasture  ?  " 

"Painted  Cup." 

"There  were  also  masses  of  flowers  of  a  pecu- 
liar lilac  shade  that  grew  in  broad  waves  along  the 
field  edges  and  in  the  gullies  beside  the  track.  I 
could  see  the  color  but  not  the  shape.  They  were 
not  Violets,  nor  Iris,  but  something  slender  that 
swayed  in  the  grass." 

"Wild  Geraniums." 

The  Pink  Azalea,  or  Pinxter- flower,  as  it  is 
known  locally,  is  a  shrub  of  May  that  carries  a  rosy 
warmth  of  color  among  gray  rocks  and  up  bare  hill- 
sides until  it  is  an  inseparable  part  of  the  Spring 
landscape.  Akin  to  the  Mountain  Laurel  and 
Great  Rose  Bay  or  Rhododendron,  and  forerunner  of 
them,  it  is  found  in  equal  beauty  growing  along 
shady  wood  roads  and  in  clearings  where  first  the 
logger  and  then  the  charcoal-burner  have  not  left 
even  a  sapling. 

Blush -white  or  pink  in  the  shade,  in  the   open 


THE     COMING    OF    SPRING  27 

it  deepens  in  the  bud  through  carmine  almost  to 
crimson,  and  is  called  red  by  the  undiscriminating, 
though  it  never  takes  the  orange,  yellow  and  scar- 
let tints  of  the  Flame  Azalea  of  the  Pennsylvania 
and  Carolina  mountains. 

While  among  flowers  the  first  comers  are  pale, 
the  Magician  soon  blends  brilliant  colors  for  his 
work,  though  he  paints  less  broadly  with  them 
than  in  summer  and  autumn.  As  regards  the  yel- 
low and  white  flowers  of  the  landscape,  it  is  well 
to  answer  questions  with  greater  caution;  there 
are  so  many  of  the  Magician's  treasures  in  sight 
at  this  season,  and  mere  color  is  not  always  rightly 
caught  in  a  swift  glance. 

Was  it  a  bed  among  rocks  of  much -cleft  silver - 
green  foliage,  set  with  flower-sprays  of  two -pointed 
white  and  yellow  bloom  that  might  be  pairs  of  elfin 
trousers  hung  out  to  bleach?  Then  you  may  say 
they  were  Dutchman's  Breeches. 

Wood  and  Rue  Anemones  both  make  patches  of 
light  in  shady  places,  but  the  Rue  is  less  brilliantly 
white,  owing  to  the  mixture  of  the  foliage  with  the 
blooms,  while  the  Wood  variety  holds  its  head  well 
above  its  leaves,  even  though  it  hangs  it  down  in 
a  discouraged  fashion  at  the  approach  of  night  or 
during  cloudy  weather;  and  Bluets  also  look  white, 


28 


THE     COMING    OF    SPRING 


in  spite  of  their  name,  when  seen  in  the  grass-like 
abundance  common  to  them. 

The  tiny  two-leaved  feather -flowered  Maianthe- 
mum,  a  sufferer  for  a  suitable  name,  and  a  half 
cousin  of  False  Solomon's  Seal,  also  makes  a  frost - 
like  fretwork  of  white,  in  the  deepest  shade  as  well 
as  in  comparatively  open  places. 

If  the  white -flowering  landscape  herbs  of  Spring 
are  confusing,  the  yellow  ones  are  doubly  so. 

Marsh  Marigold  tells  its  own  name  very  well, 
almost  as  plainly  as  the  chickadee,  for  both  are  in 
evidence  at  a  time  when  they  have  swamp  and 


THE     COMING    OF    SPRING  2Q 

tree  largely  to  themselves.  Yellow  Adder's-tongue 
also  has  a  distinctive  leaf  and  growth;  but  when 
one  tries  to  separate  at  a  distance  the  golden  mazes 
of  Buttercups,  Dandelions,  Squaw  and  Rattlesnake 
weeds,  and  the  low-growing  Star  Grass  from  Yel- 
low Oxalis,  intuition  must  piece  out  knowledge. 

It  is  a  far  easier  task  for  the  novice  to  name 
the  flower  in  the  hand  than  the  flower  in  the  land- 
scape. The  first  requires  attention  to  detail  alone, 
the  second  the  comprehensiveness,  the  impression- 
ability of  art. 

Patient  Nell  at  last  became  restless,  the  treach- 
erous ribbed  roadbed  that  had  forced  me  to  lead  the 
way  disappeared  altogether,  and  the  track  became 
an  endless  puddle.  I  did  not  complain,  however, 
because  at  this  juncture  I  found  the  first  hyla;  or 
rather  the  little  peeping  frog,  surnamed  Pickering, 
discovered  me  by  landing  on  my  knee  in  the  course 
of  a  miscalculated  leap.  I  held  him  in  my  hand  for 
a  moment,  looking  with  something  akin  to  awe  at 
the  throbbings  of  the  almost  transparent  body, 
whose  penetrating  voice  is  the  first  assurance  of 
the  coming  of  Spring. 

Once  again  upon  the  windswept  highway,  the 
signs  of  growth  lessened.  In  a  few  moist  spots  the 


3O  THE    COMING    OF    SPRING 

vigorous  Cinnamon  Fern  and  others  of  its  family 
were  emerging  from  their  woolly  winter  wraps. 
Light  clouds  continually  veiled  the  sun  and  prom- 
ised a  shower,  the  password  that  alone  could  fling 
wide  the  door  for  Spring's  entrance. 

Soon  again  the  landscape  barrenness  was  broken. 
From  across  a  narrow  railway  curve  waved  white 
plumes  of  Shadbush,  preceding  the  downy  leaves 
on  the  leaden -hued  stalks. 

Obeying  an  impulse,  I  gathered  an  armful  of 
this  April  snow  that  fell  over  my  shoulders  in  soft 
.flakes  even  as  I  brought  it  back  to  fasten  some 
twigs  on  Nell's  collar  and  use  the  rest  for  a  lap- 
robe. 

The  clouds  were  now  gathering  fast,  and  loneli- 
ness seemed  to  come  with  them.  It  takes  either 
health  and  wildly  good  spirits,  or  else  philosophy, 
to  make  a  solitary  trip  in  the  woods  endurable. 
The  former  are  preferable  as  companions,  because 
outdoor  philosophy  is  possible  only  in  a  rather  argu- 
mentative mood,  which  is  at  variance  with  the 
physical  exhilaration  and  mental  calm  that  we  seek 
in  fresh  air.  But  out  in  the  open  it  is  different, 
for  when  the  sun  shines  there  is  not  a  shadow  to 
hide  even  the  ghost  of  loneliness. 

A  drop  of  rain  fell  on  my  nose;    another,    and 


THE    COMING    OF    SPRING  31 

the  shower  was  upon  us.  The  chaise  top  and 
boot  have  saved  me  many  a  wetting.  In  fact,  a 
wise  horse  and  that  democratic  vehicle  that  usually 
suffers  the  indignity  of  the  name  of  "buggy," 
corrupted  from  the  East  Indian  word  for  gig,  are 
indispensable  companions  for  a  woman  who  visits 
the  flowers  in  their  haunts,  or  goes  hunting  with 
a  camera. 

The  wonder  of  the  change  since  early  morning! 
A  keen  ear  might  have  heard  the  leaves  unfurl  and 
the  wrappings  drop  from  the  various  catkins,  while 
the  unalloyed  aroma  of  the  earth  arose  with  the 
vapor  of  the  steaming  pastures. 

At  home,  with  Nell  safely  stabled  and  fed,  I 
stood  on  the  porch  watching  the  water  course  down 
the  triple  trunk  of  a  slender  Black  Birch.  Sud- 
denly the  rain  ceased  and  the  sun  rent  the  clouds 
in  hot  haste.  As  if  at  this  signal  the  Magician 
raised  his  staff,  the  adhesive  winter  wrappings 
melted,  and  the  Birch  tree  was  enveloped  in  a 
golden  glory  of  yellow -stamened  tassels! 

The  season  offered  many  golden  days,  and  wood 
and  field  overflowed  with  ferns  and  flowers,  but  the 
first  is  the  longest  remembered;  the  day  that  began 
and  ended  in  sunlight,  with  the  wetting  of  an 
April  shower  between,  the  day  when  Nell  and  I, 


32  THE    COMING    OF    SPRING 

going  out  to  see  the  coming  of  Spring,  met  Time 
o'  Year  in  the  lane,  and  the  master  on  his  return 
from  his  day  among  paved  ways  gratefully  ate  the 
trout  for  his  supper,  with  a  sprig  of  Arbutus  in 
his  buttonhole. 

Then  at  twilight  we  stood  under  the  Birch's 
golden  shower  rejoicing;  more  precious,  this  treas- 
ure, than  Hesperus'  apples,  for  no  one  would  dis- 
pute its  possession  with  us  save  the  bees  ! 


II 


ALONG    THE    WATER- 
WAYS 

[ME  O'  YEAR  spends  half  his  days 
among  the  waterways,  that  begin  afar 
off  in  quickening  veins  of  moisture 
among  the  rocky  hill-woods,  thread 
their  way  unknown,  save  for  the  tell- 
tale flowers  that  follow,  across  many 
meadows,  and  join  forces  to  rush  into 
the  mill-pond  above  the  forge;  after  this  they  sepa- 
rate again,  and  go  their  several  ways  as  full-fledged 
streams. 

Time  o'  Year  has  chosen  the  most  capricious 
among  these  for  his  following  —  a  waterway  that 
changes  its  course  every  hundred  yards  or  so.  Now 
fairly  broad  and  smooth,  though  inhospitable  to 
traffic,  like  so  many  New  England  streams,  it  sud- 
denly drops  rushing  into  a  ravine  cut  by  centuries 
of  its  passing,  where  fissured  rocks  and  pot-holes 
tell  of  its  work.  Then,  hesitating  in  pond-like 
complacency  every  little  while,  it  quiets  to  a  usual 
mill-stream  for  the  eight -miles'  course  before,  the 

c  33 


34  ALONG     THE    WATERWAYS 

salt  entering  its  blood,  it  disappears  among  the 
marshes,  being  drawn  seaward  with  tide -water. 

If  you  ask  Time  o'  Year  what  he  is  doing  when 
you  meet  him  wandering  along  the  birches  on  river 
banks,  or  sitting  watching  the  sway  of  the  white 
Water  Lily  pads  and  the  reflection  of  purple  Pick- 
erel Weed  in  some  quiet  nook  well  out  of  the  cur- 
rent, he  will  answer,  "Fishing,"  at  the  same  time 
taking  a  seasonable  bait,  —  worm,  grasshopper,  or 
suchlike,  from  his  basket,  perfectly  unconscious  that 
your  eyes  are  riveted,  perhaps,  on  the  flower  of  a 
rare  Pitcher-plant,  that  dangles  from  his  frayed 
buttonhole,  telling  of  a  long  tramp  through  marshy, 
fishless  places,  where  the  ground  is  sphagnum -cov- 
ered, the  haunt  of  the  strange  insect -killing  Sun- 
dews, Arums,  Water  Plantains,  Cranberries,  Fringed 
Orchids,  and  other  bog  plants. 

Fishing  ?  Why  should  he  be  doubted,  when  rod 
and  line  and  water  all  are  there  ?  Even  if  trout 
should  be  out  of  season,  he  knows  the  run  of  every 
eel,  bass,  perch,  or  pike.  But  Time  o'  Year  is  no 
pot-hunter,  either  with  rod  or  gun;  a  morsel  for 
his  own  need  is  all  he  ever  takes  of  fin,  fur,  or 
feather.  No:  he  is  listening  to  the  river-voice  that 
has  been  calling,  calling,  ever  since  it  first  moved 
on  the  face  of  seething  waters,  to  those  that  have 


ALONG    THE     WATERWAYS  35 

the  ears  to*  hear.  He  is  watching  day  by  day,  week 
by  week,  year  by  year,  the  procession  that  follows 
the  waterways  —  flower,  fern,  beast  and  bird,  and 
sometimes  man,  from  the  greening  of  the  first  grass - 
blade  that  tells  of  the  dawn  of  Spring,  until  the 
footprints  of  mink  and  skunk  in  the  snow  alone 
point  to  where  the  stream  lies  ice -covered.  To 
these  humble  followers  the  voice  speaks  through 
their  necessity,  and  guides  them  to  the  warm, 
thinly -crusted  spring-hole  where  they  may  drink. 

Time  o'  Year  uses  his  fishing-rod  as  a  natural 
shield  to  ward  off  questioning, — a  commonly  under- 
stood excuse  for  days  spent  with  nature,  in  what 
otherwise  would  be  called  idleness.  Have  not  many 
men,  naturalists  and  moralists  both,  in  all  time, 
tried,  like  this  childlike  man,  to  hide  their  nature  - 
ward  and  spiritual  longings,  held  too  sacred  for 
casual  handling,  behind  a  slender  fishing-rod  ? 

Was  it  the  love  of  fish -catching,  or  the  voice, 
that  led  Walton  from  the  linen-draper's,  or,  some 
say,  the  ironmonger's  shop,  to  follow  the  water- 
ways ?  Sportsmen  still  argue  that  he  did  not  rank 
as  a  fisherman  pure  and  simple,  for  to  him  a  reel 
was  a  confusing  implement,  and  he  lacked  the  skill 
to  fish  up-stream. 

Did    he    absorb    from    the    daintily  cooked    trout 


36  ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS 

that  he  has  given  such  careful  directions  for  pre- 
paring, the  cheerful,  spiritual  philosophy  that  fitted 
him  for  the  friendship  of  Donne,  and  enabled  him 
to  interpret  the  life  of  Herbert  ? 

No,  it  was  the  voice  that  taught  him. 

Each  year  when  Spring  has  made  her  entry,  the 
errant  streams,  retreating  to  the  established  water- 
ways, resume  the  discourse  that  frost  ended  by 
a  finger -touch.  These  waterways  are  the  most 
potent  social  influences  of  wild  nature,  and  not  to 
know  them  is  but  half  to  learn  the  Magician's 
alphabet. 

A  riverless  land  is  a  treeless,  birdless  country 
where  homesickness  flourishes;  a  motiveless  waste, 
where  the  wind  whirls  the  sand  until  there  are  no 
paths  and  no  boundaries.  Do  you  realize  that, 
while  boundless  liberty  is  the  great  desire  of  the 
mind,  the  feet  unconsciously  seek  for  trodden 
paths?  The  waterways  were  the  first  paths  cut  by 
the  Magician  through  primeval  rock,  and  he  still 
loves  to  linger  about  them.  Be  it  April  or  arid 
August,  go  out  into  the  near-by  waterways;  watch, 
listen,  and  follow. 

From  the  waterways,  seen  or  invisible,  are  the 
colors  irradiated  that  paint  the  landscape,  and  it 


ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS  37 

does  not  take  a  lake  or  mighty  river  to  exert  a 
quickening  influence  over  miles  of  lowlands,  either 
by  spring  overflow,  or  by  the  penetration  of  slug- 
gish outlets  and  minute  tributaries. 

The  waterways  work  with  a  bold  brush  in  flower- 
painting,  and  from  earliest  spring  until  late  autumn 
the  primary  colors,  yellow,  blue,  and  red,  flow  from 
it.  The  first  strongly  yellow  flower  is  the  Marsh 
Marigold,  which  gilds  the  swamps  before  the  Dan- 
delion holds  its  field  of  the  cloth  of  gold  in  pastures. 
At  this  season  of  overflows,  the  near  approach  to 
stream  and  river  is  difficult;  but  the  Marsh  Mari- 
gold can  be  seen  afar,  and  consequently  is  the  first 
bright  color  of  the  landscape. 

Blue,  tinting  to  purple,  a  royal  color,  comes  next. 
New  England  may  have  rejected  kings  and  heraldry 
long  ago,  but  she  still  wears  freely  every  May  Fleur- 
de-Lys  azure  in  or,  on  a  green  field;  for  the  large 
Blue  Flag,  or  Iris  versicolor,  flocks  in  crowds  at 
every  muddy  river -edge,  and  spreads  its  regal  mantle 
over  the  marshy  fields.  It  is  a  peerless  flower  seen 
in  its  haunt  when  the  sun  shines  clear.  To  look 
down  among  these  violet -blue  flowers,  touched  with 
white  and  gold,  and  veined  with  deep -cut  purple, 
to  watch  the  shadows  of  the  deep  green  sword  - 
shaped  leaves  quiver  across  them,  while  a  trans- 


38  ALONG     THE     WATERWAYS 

parent  haze  of  color  envelops  the  whole,  is  to 
confess  the  effect  unpaintable.  To  pick  the  rigid 
stalks,  topped  by  the  crown -shaped  petals,  that 
droop  and  melt  away  after  the  fashion  of  all  flowers 
of  a  day,  is  to  acknowledge  that  this  Iris  must  surely 
be  seen  in  its  home  to  be  known  in  anything  but 
outline.  If  many  flowers  of  wood  and  field  lose 
quality  away  from  their  surroundings,  the  herba- 
ceous flowers  of  moist  lands  and  waterways  do  so 
in  far  greater  degree. 

The  Water  Lilies,  however,  of  which  three  va- 
rieties can  be  found  within  a  day's  drive  of  Lone- 
town,  may  be  safely  gathered,  and  floated  in  a  deep 
bowl ;  they  will  open  and  close  for  several  successive 
days.  But  the  deep  green  and  carmine -lined  leaves 
that  enhance  their  beauty  curl  up  as  soon  as  their 
under  surface  dries. 

One  day  in  late  July  I  was  searching  the  margin 
of  the  forge  mill-pond  for  Lily-pads  to  photograph, 
having  as  yet  found  that  morning  only  the  half 
erect  leaves  of  the  yellow  variety,  whose  bumptious 
flowers  look  more  like  large,  leathery  Buttercups 
than  Lilies.  Seeing  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
pond  a  mass  of  the  floating  leaves  I  wanted,  I 
worked  my  way  around  to  them,  only  to  find  that 
they  were  ragged  and  torn,  that  all  the  flowers  and 


ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS  39 

buds  had  been  wrenched  off,  evidently  by  a  rake, 
and  that  many  plants  were  entirely  uprooted  and 
drifting,  ready  to  be  washed  away  by  the  next 
shower.  A  shout  from  a  hickory  grove  just  above 
gave  clue  to  the  destroyers.  A  picnic  was  in  prog- 
ress, of  the  sort  that  always  brings  disaster  upon  the 
flora  and  fauna  of  the  region  where  it  locates. 

Water  Lilies  were  being  fastened  around  the 
men's  straw  hats  and  at  the  girls'  belts  impartially, 
while  the  buds,  with  their  long,  rubber-like  stems, 
were  freely  used  as  return  balls  to  throw  into  the 
faces  of  the  unwary.  Trowels  and  jack-knives  in  the 
hands  of  women  were  uprooting  clumps  of  Maiden- 
hair and  other  equally  fragile  Ferns,  to  be  stowed 
away  under  the  seats  of  wagons  that  stood  out  in 
the  sun,  while  the  men  were  engaged  in  trimming 
these  same  vehicles  with  whole  bushes  of  the  Large- 
leaved  Laurel  and  yards  of  Ground  Pine.  A  little 
apart  from  the  others  two  lads  were  ripping  a  foot- 
wide  girdle  from  the  trunk  of  a  magnificent  old 
Silver  Birch,  the  only  one  of  its  size  for  miles 
around  and  a  well-known  landmark. 

As  I  was  about  to  call  out  in  protest,  I  felt, 
rather  than  saw,  a  shadow  cross  the  path.  Before 
I  could  even  turn,  Time  o'  Year's  voice  said: 

"'Sh!   Ye  can't  do  nothing.    They  're  on  town- 


ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS 


ship  land,  and  township  don't  care.  Ye  're  wanting 
to  take  Pond  Lilies?  I  know  some  they  won't  find. 
Come  and  see!" 

Whenever  Time  o'  Year  said,  "Come  and  see!" 
an  ecstatic  expression  of  blended  revelation  and  sat- 
isfaction beamed  in  his 
smile,  and  he  seemed  to 
quiver  all  over  with  pro- 
phetic eagerness.  At 
the  first  step,  we  dis- 
appeared safely  and 
wholly  from  view  into 
a  group  of  Button  Bushes 
that  margined  the  pond  on 
the  upper  side.  As  we 
pushed  our  way,  a  delicious 
fragrance  came  from  over- 
head, and  I  pulled  down  a 
branch  to  smell  the  feathery 
balls  of  bloom  at  nearer  range.  From  the  time  of 
Wild  Grape  flowers,  until  the  last  purple  cluster 
shrivels,  the  richest  fragrance  centers  about  the 
waterways. 

"What    does    it    smell    like?"    I    queried,    half 
aloud. 

"Pa'tridge  Vine,  I   reckon,"  answered  Time    o' 


ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS  41 

Year,  rubbing  the  flowers  between  his  fingers,  and 
then  smelling  of  them  as  if  to  inhale  the  grade 
rather  than  the  volume  of  the  perfume. 

"Surely  it  is  like  Partridge  Vine,"  I  replied; 
"only  as  pervading  as  if  bushels  of  the  little  cross - 
shaped  white  blooms  were  gathered  in  a  mass. 
Good  reason  why  —  the  two  are  members  of  the 
same  family." 

"I  want  to  know!"  said  Time  o'  Year,  delight- 
edly. "It  beats  me,  how  blood  will  tell!  Now, 
Fanton's  brown  mare  has  a  way  of  favorin'  her 
near  front  foot  by  lappin'  it  over  t'  other  when 
she  stands.  I  never  saw  another  do  so,  and  she  's 
sound  as  a  dollar,  too.  Last  fall  a  neighbor  o' 
his'n  bought  a  colt  up  York  state,  and  pretty  soon 
he  noticed  she  overlapped  in  standin',  same  as 
Fanton's  mare.  Huh!  he  thought  it  must  be  a 
catchin'  habit,  from  pasturin'  alongside;  but  sure 
enough,  come  to  find  out,  the  colt's  mother  and 
Fanton's  mare  were  whole  sisters!" 

Next  a  space  of  mud  and  Tussock  Grass,  where 
picking  the  way  was  an  absorbing  task,  ended  my 
guide's  comparison  between  the  passive  and  active 
development  of  heredity.  Near  here,  where  the 
stream  sometimes  sluggishly  meanders  away  from  its 
channel,  I  have,  at  rare  intervals,  found  the  curious 


42  ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS 

Golden  Club  in  May,  and  the  Water  Arum  in  early 
June. 

Next  we  crossed  a  wet  meadow  inhabited  by 
Monkey  Flowers,  with  delicate  light  purple  blos- 
soms, together  with  the  striking  but  unsatisfactory 
spikes  of  Steeple  Bush,  that  promise  in  the  bud  to 
be  graceful  sprays  of  bright  pink  Spirea,  but  end 
in  faded  fuzziness,  owing  to  the  trick  that  so  many 
spiked  flowers  have  of  slowly  blossoming  in  sec- 
tions. Here  also  the  fleshy  stalks  and  dangling 
flowers  of  two  Jewel  Weeds  grow  thick,  rank  and 
top-heavy. 

A  bit  of  bog  hidden  from  the  country-side  by 
Bush  Willows  must  be  crossed  by  means  of  fallen 
trees,  which  have  lost  their  branches  and  are  mol- 
dering  to  peat.  Time  o'  Year  paused,  and  pointed 
to  a  sturdy  tuft  of  red -veined  green  leaves.  It  was 
a  splendid  Pitcher-plant,  or  rather  a  group  of  them, 
every  pitcher-like  leaf  perfect,  water-filled  and  laden 
with  drowned  insects  held  for  its  nourishment. 

I  stood  amazed,  and  signed  to  my  companion  to 
know  the  reason  of  its  presence  so  far  from  any 
haunt  where  I  had  ever  found  it. 

"Thirty  years  ago  it  was  full  of  'em  here,"  he 
answered.  "Folks  took  'em  onct  in  a  while  for 
curiosities,  or  to  try  to  grow  'em  in  fish -globes  and 


ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS 


43 


jars.  Still,  they  held  their  own  until  one  time,  four 
or  five  years  since,  a  florist  fellow  from  back  of 
Bridgeport  came  out  here  for  a  load  of  bog  moss, 
and  spied  'em.  Next  thing  I  knew  they  were  all 
rooted  out,  'cept  a  couple  of  young  ones,  and  they  're 
beginning  to  spread  again,  you  see." 


Another  plant  that,  taken  from  its  haunt,  is  a 
curiosity  destined  to  come  to  an  untimely  end  in  a 
fish -globe,  but  at  home  an  example  of  the  mechan- 
ism which  the  Magician  can  lend  to  plant -life,  and 
a  fine  study  in  green  and  bronze  tints,  backed,  as 
it  was,  by  Bur  Reeds  and  Cat -tail  Flags. 

Woods  again,  still  more  completely  hiding  a  chain 


44  ALONG    THE     WATERWAYS 

of  smaller  ponds  from  the  highway.  Truly,  Time 
o'  Year's  own  waterway  is  infinitely  varied.  On 
the  sunny  edge  of  these  woods  grew  bushes  of 
white  Swamp  Azalea,  the  flowers,  almost  past  their 
prime,  giving  a  perfume  more  heavily  sweet  than 
that  of  the  Button-bush. 

This  Azalea  being,  like  its  sister,  the  Pinxter 
Flower,  a  shrub,  its  blossoms  may  be  kept  in  water 
several  days  if  they  are  picked  before  they  fully  ex- 
pand, which  is  the  case  with  most  of  our  native 
shrubs,  of  dry  or  moist  lands,  provided  their  stems 
are  wrapped  in  wet  cotton  as  soon  as  cut,  and  an 
additional  bit  taken  from  the  stalk  when  it  is  finally 
placed  in  water. 

The  first  two  ponds  were  close  together,  only 
divided  by  an  old  dam,  which  had  long  since  fallen 
inward,  stone  by  stone,  and,  catching  the  spring 
drift  of  soil,  had  turned  to  a  flower-covered  dyke. 
The  near-by  margin  of  the  lower  pond  was  fur- 
rowed, and  the  ground  felt  oozy  to  the  tread  for 
several  yards  above  the  water's  edge.  The  oppo- 
site bank  was  abrupt  and  rocky,  while  under  it  the 
water  held  reflections  of  trees  and  the  lazy  clouds 
of  the  summer  sky. 

Time  o'  Year  halted,  spread  out  his  hands  as  if 
giving  a  blessing,  and  said  briefly: 


ALONG     THE     WATERWAYS  45 

"There  's  Water  Lilies." 

Yes,  and  a  landscape  fit  to  drive  a  flower  pho- 
tographer mad  with  the  impossibility  of  keeping 
the  merest  fragment  of  it,  though  an  impressionist 
painter  would  have  been  filled  with  joy.  Lilies 
gathered  in  circles  where  there  was  no  current, 
and  sturdy  purple  Pickerel  Weed  came  out  as  far 
from  shore  as  it  could  wade  to  meet  these  floating 
islands.  But  that  which  held  the  eye  longest  was 
a  broad  band  of  clear  green  foliage,  thickly  feath- 
ered with  soft  white,  which  margined  the  entire 
pond,  a  metallic  glint,  as  of  strands  of  copper  wire, 
showing  here  and  there  as  if  it  bound  the  mass 
together. 

The  flower  was  the  familiar  Lizard's  Tail,  with 
its  delicately  spiked  white  flowers  and  heart-shaped 
leaves,  both  of  which  droop  on  being  gathered. 
The  copper  wire  was  Dodder,  a  leafless  parasite, 
with  small  white  flowers  and  berries,  which  lives 
upon  the  plants  of  waterways.  In  the  hand,  nei- 
ther plant  was  of  conspicuous  appearance,  but 
growing  in  rank  luxuriance  in  such  a  haunt,  the 
effect  was  almost  tropical.  I  know  of  no  other 
like  bit  of  picturesqueness  hereabout,  except  where, 
at  the  end  of  a  long  drive  across  country,  I  once 
came  upon  the  pale  yellow  native  Lotus  growing 


46  ALONG     THE    WATERWAYS 

in  such  rich  profusion  in  Lake  Wacabuc  that  a 
boat  could  barely  push  its  way  among  the  tangled 
pads  of  leaves,  buds,  flowers  and  seed -pods,  oddly 
shaped  like  the  nozzle  of  a  watering  pot.  It  was  a 
sight  to  make  one  for  the  time  forget  New  Eng- 
land's rocky  hills  and  cobble -strewn  pastures.  But 
even  among  these  much  beauty  goes  a-begging, 
and  is  passed  by  unheeded,  because  it  is  too  near 
home  to  be  thought  worth  seeking  out  and  cherish- 
ing. People  make  coaching  tours  the  country  over 
for  love  of  scenery  who  do  not  know  of  the  near-by 
flower  landscapes,  or  of  the  waterways  that  sur- 
round their  very  homes,  except  as  drinking  places 
for  the  cattle  in  the  pastures. 

"Come  up  to  the  other  pond,"  said  Time  o' 
Year,  breaking  my  reverie  at  the  right  moment; 
for  the  picknickers,  whom  we  had  left  behind,  were 
jangling  a  dinner-bell  to  collect  their  scattered  com- 
pany, and  the  howls  and  cat -calls  that  sounded  by 
way  of  response  were  jarring. 

"If  they  'd  seen  your  trick-box  nothing  would 
have  saved  yer.  You  Jd  have  had  to  take  'em  all, 
sure,  'nless  you  went  and  sat  in  the  middle  o'  the 
pond,"  chuckled  Time  o'  Year,  wickedly  laughing 
as  he  saw  me  huddle  my  camera  up  tight  in  its 
waterproof  cover  at  the  bare  thought. 


ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS  47 

"The  other  pond's  different  —  deeper,  steeper 
banks,  more  bushed  up.  I  always  thought  this  one 
was  just  a  low  meadow  not  so  long  ago.  The 
bottom  's  soft,  and  there  is  n't  a  hole  in  it  deep 
'nough  to  hold  a  two -pound  pickerel.  King- 
fishers don't  like  to  dive  in  it  neither,  and  that  's 
a  sure  sign  of  shallow  water  and  soft  bottom.  But 
green  herons  like  it  here,  and  quawks  and  great 
blue  cranes,  but  they  're  more  in  the  frogging  line 
o'  business." 

A  foot-path  coming  from  the  woods  followed  the 
margin  of  the  second  pond  at  the  distance  of  a 
yard  or  so,  winding  and  curving  around  the  minia- 
ture bays  and  inlets  until  ten  feet  of  headway  meant 
thirty  of  meanderings.  This  is  one  of  the  illusions 
by  which  the  waterways  beguile  us  into  thinking, 
as  we  follow  the  voice  that  travels  on  before,  that 
we  are  covering  vast  areas;  whereas,  after  wander- 
ing about  a  whole  morning,  discovering  each  mo- 
ment new  treasures  of  the  eye  and  ear,  we  find  that 
we  have  progressed  only  a  mile  or  so,  measuring  by 
the  direction  of  the  straight  highroad. 

Between  the  path  and  the  pond -edge  shot  up 
stiff  plants  of  the  Arrowhead,  with  their  arum -like 
leaves  and  spikes  of  fragile,  white,  tripetaled  flow- 
ers, quite  as  pleasing  to  the  eye  as  many  of  the 


ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS 


smaller  Orchids.  These  also  are  flowers  to  rejoice 
over  when  seen  in  their  perfection  —  with  clear 
water  for  a  background,  and 
splendid  dragon  -  flies  darting 
over  them;  but  when  gathered 
soon  are  but  sad  little  wrecks, 
with  curled,  blackened  leaves 
and  drooping  blossoms,  like  so 
many  of  the  frailer  flowers  of 
the  waterways,  literally  melting 
to  tears  on  leaving  home. 

All  about  this  upper  pond 
crowded  a  half  woody  growth,  which 
arched  its  long,  slender  branches  over 
the  water  until  they  trailed  in  it,  after 
the  fashion  of  vines.  Upon  the  wand- 
like  stems  of  the  near-by  shrubs  I 
could  see,  set  in  the  axils  of  the  leaves, 
the  groups  of  small,  pink -purple  flow- 
ers, whose  thin,  narrow  petals  and  long  stamens 
gave  the  stalks  a  rosy,  fringed  appearance.  Where 
a  vigorous  stalk  bent  low  enough  to  reach  the 
mud  beneath  the  water  a  mass  of  roots  could  be 
seen  spreading  from  it,  and  grasping  a  firm  hold, 
while  the  stem  of  a  new  plant  started  upward  from 
these  roots. 


ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS 


49 


This  slender-stemmed  shrub  was  the  Swamp 
Loosestrife,  or  Willow  Herb,  —  though  Walking 
Loosestrife  would,  I  think,  be  rather  a  better 
name  for  it,  as  it  strides  about  our  Connecticut 
ponds  and  river  banks  with  such  rapidity  that  it 
surely  wears  the  seven-league  boots  of  plant  land! 
A  common  plant?  Yes,  for  our  own  home  mill- 
pond  is  hedged  with  it,  though  never  had  I  found 
a  pond  so  completely  possessed  by  it  as  this.  But 
how  few  there  are  who  seem  to  know  it 
by  name,  or  to  remember  ever 
having  seen  it  in 
its  haunts!  Of 
the  many 
guides  to 
flowers 


ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS 


which,  during  the  past  few  years,  have  held  out 
their  hands  to  aid  and  instruct  the  novice,  which 
one  has  mentioned  it  ? 

Yet,  for  all  this,  it  is  not  a  land- 
scape flower  that  may  be  overlooked, 
even  though  the  value  is  more  in  the 
leaf  than  in  the  bloom.  From  Spring 
to  Midsummer  its  foliage  wears  succes- 
sively three  shades  of  green,  ranging 
from  sap  through  clear  emerald  to  verd 
antique.  Its  blossoming  time  runs  all 
through  July  and  August,  and  even 
before  its  flowers  drop  away  a  mel- 
low tint  overspreads  the  foli- 
age, —  yellow,  pink  and  deep 
maroon  all  flicker  and  come  and 
go  among  the  bending  withes, 
until,  as  summer  passes,  the 
pond -edges  are  wreathed  in  the 
same  colors  of  flame  that  Sam- 
phire spreads  over  the  salt 
marshes,  Low  Bush  Blackberries 
bring  to  the  rocky  pastures,  Sumacs  to  the  hill- 
sides, and  Virginia  Creeper,  festooning  over  old 
walls,  trails  by  the  wayside. 

The  sun  was  very   bright  upon  the   water,  and 


ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS  51 

as  Time  o'  Year  turned  toward  the  wood  again  to 
rest  his  dazzled  eyes,  the  third  perfume  of  the  day 
played  with  my  nostrils, — a  sort  of  blending  of  the 
odors  of  Button -bush  and  Swamp  Azalea,  yet 
more  clearly  defined  and  spicy  than  either,  and 
bearing  the  suggestion  of  damp  leaves  with  it. 
Another  whiff,  and  my  nose 
decided  that  the  perfume  was 
Clethra  or  White  Alder,  as  it 
is  often  called,  though  nowhere 
could  my  eyes  discover  it. 

"A  lot  o'  Sweet 
Pepper  -  bushes    on 
ahead,"    said  Time 
o'  Year,    who  was 
in    front    of   me. 
"Fine   ones,    too, 
well    flowered    and    in  a 
likely  spot,  not  too  much 
sun  nor  too  much  damp, 
and   screened    from    the 
northwest    wind,    which 
does  a  lot  of  harm,  driv- 
ing along  the  ponds  and 
rivers  some  Springs,  after 
things    have   started.      I 


ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS 


guess  you  '11  find    Pepper -bush  just  right  this  time 
'o  year." 

Clethra,  White  Alder,  or  Sweet  Pepper-bush 
(so-called  from  seed -pods  that  resemble  pepper- 
corns), the  flower  is  one  and  the  same;  no  name, 
however  invented,  could  half  describe  the  sugges- 
tive fragrance,  and  no  chemist  could  ever  counter- 
feit it.  Clethra  is  too  often  a  bush  defaced  by 
much  dead  wood  and  shabby  seed -pods,  but  this 
group  was  of  even,  young,  fresh  growth,  coming 
from  old  stumps,  while  the  flower  sprays  rose 
erect  above  the  leaves,  in  shape  like  long 
candle  flames. 

A  horse   neighed  at   the  pic- 
nic  ground,    and    Nell,   tethered 
down   the    highway, 
answered  and  added 
an  impatient  whinny 
on  her  own  account. 
So    once    again    I 
parted  company  with 
Time   o'  Year,  who   stood 
a  moment  smiling  at  me  as 
I   packed   away   my    plate - 
holders   safe    from    light. 
Then,  picking  up  his  eter- 


ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS  53 

nal  fishing-rod  from  some  mysterious  hiding-place, 
he  trudged  off  up  the  pond  path,  whistling  softly 
to  himself  in  a  startled  sort  of  way,  like  a  bird 
that,  after  the  silent  time,  tries  his  voice  in  Au- 
tumn, and  seems  surprised  at  its  sound. 

Nell  whinnied  again  when  she  caught  sight  of 
me,  this  time  contentedly  tossing  her  head  to 
signify  that  it  was  time  to  change  bit  and  bridle 
for  her  lunch -bag.  At  the  same  instant  my  day's 
companion,  who,  owing  to  a  dainty  gown  and 
flowery  hat,  had  preferred  not  to  risk  damage  by 
thorn  and  briar,  and  had  decided  to  stay  in  the 
shade  reading  "The  Kentucky  Cardinal"  (I  would 
not  allow  her  a  less  admirable  book  for  the  day's 
outing) ,  turned  the  last  leaf,  leaned  back  against 
the  bank  of  Hay- Scented  Ferns,  and  stretching  lux- 
uriously, said: 

"It  has  been  a  simply  perfect  morning.  But, 
oh!  how  hungry  I  am!" 

Telling  Nellie  to  be  patient  a  little  longer,  we 
drove  down  the  road  a  mile  or  so,  until  we  joined 
the  river  again,  almost  opposite  Time  o'  Year's 
cabin.  Here  the  way  was  narrow,  well  shaded,  and 
cut  like  a  step  in  the  edge  of  a  wall  of  rocky 
woodland,  which  rose  eastward  of  the  river  valley. 
Rocks  also  separated  the  road  from  the  river,  which 


54  ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS 

at  this  point  rushed  along,  its  rock -bed  full  of  pot- 
holes, twenty  feet  below.  Between  road  and  river 
were  some  old  buildings,  which  in  their  day  had 
been  grist-,  saw-,  and  cider-mills.  Two  were  so 
crumbled  that  vines  grew  through  the  floors,  and 
the  phcebe's  nests  of  many  generations  strewed  the 
beams.  The  third,  the  cider -mill,  still  bore  traces 
of  use.  Moldy  straw  and  dried  apple -skins  hung 
from  the  clumsy  press,  while  the  rude  platform, 
under  the  vines  and  trees  in  full  view  of  the  river 
where  Tree -bridge  spanned  it,  offered  an  ideal 
resting  place.  So  there  we  halted. 

A  flowering  Clematis  vine  climbed  up  from  the 
bank  by  way  of  some  tall  Alders,  and  leaning  over, 
I  saw  at  the  same  glance  a  gorgeous  company  of 
Cardinal  Flowers,  doubled  by  their  reflection  in 
the  water.  A  rock  had  protected  their  roots  from 
freshets,  and  they  stood  there  like  a  company  of 
silent  torch -bearers,  their  lights  but  newly  lit,  and 
likely  to  burn  a  month  or  more  before  extinguish- 
ment, save  only  this  difference,  that  a  pine-knot, 
torch,  or  a  candle,  burns  from  the  top  downward, 
while  the  flower- flame  creeps  upward  and  shows 
its  last  gleam  from  the  stalk's  top. 

When  the  Cardinal  Flower  grows  among  the 
tangles  of  low  meadows  or  by  muddy  ponds  where 


ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS  55 

it  is  meshed  by  Tear-Thumb,  Goose -Grass,  Dodder, 
or  the  persistent  Hog  Peanut,  we  see  its  wonderful 
color,  but  lose  its  identity  of  form.  Here,  back- 
grounded by  clear-cut  rock,  it  stood  out  in  perfect 
and  untroubled  stateliness.  Two  of  its  companions 
along  the  waterways,  which  form  with  it  a  sort  of 
floral  tricolor,  are  also  seen  in  greater  beauty  when 
they  grow  massed  along  the  course  of  running 
streams,  than  where  a  profusion  of  rank  marsh 
growth  overpowers  them.  These  are  the  flesh - 
white  Turtle -Head  and  the  purple  Closed  Gentian, 
flower  of  mystery,  that  keeps  its  lips  tight  closed 
upon  whatever  secrets  it  possesses. 

The  Turtle -Head  was  already  in  bloom,  for  it 
usually  keeps  pace  with  the  Cardinal  Flower.  The 
Closed  Gentian  not  showing  its  intensely  opaque 
purple  flowers  until  middle  August,  loses  them 
before  its  companions  are  out  of  bloom. 

Farther  down  the  road,  where  a  lane  turns  off 
over  a  low -set  bridge  into  a  wood  lot,  there  flowers 
each  year  a  patch  of  Closed  Gentian,  such  as  one 
seldom  sees  now  within  reach  of  travelled  roads. 
Exactly  where  it  is  I  will  not  tell,  though  I  may 
lead  you  there  some  day.  I  guard  its  haunt  as 
Time  o'  Year  guards  his  Arbutus. 

Within    a   space   of   a   scant   dozen    feet,  deep- 


56  ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS 

rooted  in  wet  soil,  and  screened  from  the  lane  by 
the  end  of  the  bridge,  the  straight  stalks  of  the 
Closed  Gentian,  so  overgrown  by  good  nourish- 
ment as  to  be  almost  vine -like,  can  be  counted 
by  the  dozens.  This  flower  is  of  perennial  habit 
of  growth,  and  therefore,  once  established,  is  more 
true  to  its  haunts  than  the  sun -loving  blue  Fringed 
Gentian,  which  is  an  annual,  dependent  upon  seed 
alone  for  its  continuance  in  the  place  where  we 
find  it,  and  sought  with  eagerness  from  this  very 
elusiveness. 

The  locusts  droned  away,  Nell  nodded  into  her 
feed-bag,  and  we  sat  silently  watching  the  bees, 
that  were  helping  themselves  to  a  peach  that  was 
beyond  our  capacity,  and  the  ants  who  came  on 
sweet  errands,  and  who  had,  by  their  passing  year 
by  year  to  and  fro  from  the  press,  worn  a  little 
track  in  the  soft  boards. 

"  Do  cover  up  that  ant  -  walk  with  a  branch 
or  something,"  said  Flower  Hat.  "I  don't  think 
I  like  to  watch  ants;  they  are  so  industrious  and 
virtuous  that,  on  a  day  like  this,  they  seem  a  sort 
of  moral  reproach  to  one.  Oh,  look!" 

At  that  moment  a  yellow  swallow-tail  butterfly 
drove  the  bee  from  the  peach,  while  a  cloud  of 


ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS  57 

the  brick -red  milkweed  monarchs  hovered  over  a 
jungle  of  their  favorite  flowers  just  beyond  the 
mill. 

The  sun  lay  many  hours  to  the  west  of  noon 
before  we  left  our  shelter.  I  sat  leaning  back 
against  the  one-time  straw  rack,  and  dreamily  wove 
together  thoughts  of  all  the  other  lovely  outdoor 
days  that  were  brought  back  by  the  picture  now 
before  me.  The  river -voice  murmured  clearly  as 
it  passed  between  the  rocks,  and  I  idly  wondered 
how  long  it  would  take  the  current  now  flowing 
by  in  cool  shade  to  reach  and  spread  among  the 
open  marshes  near  the  sea, — tropical  gardens  which, 
at  that  season  and  hour,  would  give  off  visible  and 
blinding  rays  of  heat. 

My  companions  were  both  sleeping.  How 
strangely  sleep  relaxes  characteristics  that  will- 
power gives  to  the  faces  both  of  man  and  of 
beast.  Flower  Hat  was  —  but  no!  I'll  not  say  it. 
She  may  read  this,  which  Nell  will  hardly  do.  Nell, 
who,  on  the  road,  would  pass  for  ten  instead  of 
twenty,  had  shaken  off  her  feed -bag  and  now  stood 
with  closed  eyes.  Her  somewhat  whiskery  chin 
dropped  in  a  foolish  way,  partly  showing  her  lower 
teeth,  while  her  ears,  usually  so  pert  and  mobile, 
had  lost  nerve  and  direction •,  so  that  she  appeared 


58  ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS 

to  be  in  the  last  of  the  seven  ages  of  a  horse,  sans 
everything  but  sleep, 

I  laughed   aloud. 

A  flowery  hat  was  straightened,  and  a  far-away 
voice  said,  "Oh,  I  'm  wide  awake.  I  've  heard 
every  word  you  said,  but  I  'm  too  comfortable  to 
answer."  Which  statement,  as  I  had  not  spoken, 
was  perfectly  true. 

Then  once  more  my  thoughts  joined  with  the 
river,  and  followed  it  down  to  its  sea -gardens. 

The  day  before  I  had  looked  for  flowers  in  the 
marshes  threaded  by  hybrid  watercourses,  half  creek, 
half  river,  where  the  salt  relish  stimulates  other  con- 
ditions of  growth  and  different  colorings.  It  had 
been  a  good  morning  for  going  to  the  marsh  lands. 
The  sky  was  overcast,  the  wind,  fresh  and  east- 
erly, had  driven  the  mosquitoes  from  the  wet -bot- 
tomed salt  meadows  back  to  the  bracken  thickets. 
The  'tide  was  low,  so  that  the  feathery  edging  of 
lilac  Sea  Lavender  that  bounded  the  salt  haying 
grounds  was  reachable. 

Where  the  coarse  grass  was  short,  and  the  sunken 
tide -water  had  left  a  sort  of  metallic  luster  on  the 
mud,  grew  the  dwarfed  Seaside  Gerardia,  its  flowers 
purple -pink,  its  shape  a  minute  counterpart  of  its 
sisters  of  wood  and  upland  meadows.  There,  too, 


ALONG     THE     WATERWAYS 


59 


growing  in  rosettes,  the  leaves  coming  from  a  central 
root,  blushed  the  rose-pink,  wheel-shaped  flowers 
of  the  American  Centaury  or  Sabbatia,  so  bright 
in  hue  that  the  near-by  Salt  Marsh  Fleabane 
looked  dingy  and  overblown  by  contrast,  while, 
acting  as  a  foil  to 
both  of  these,  the 
stiff,  inflated  leaf- 
less stems  of  Glass  - 
wort  covered  the 
ground  with  the 
translucent  green 
such  as  we  find  in 
seaweeds. 

The  course  of 
every  tide -ditch  was 
outlined  by  Cat -tail 
Flags,  rich  with 
their  brown  batons,  which  seem  to  give  them  juris- 
diction in  the  world  of  reeds.  But  the  Rose  Mallow 
is  in  Summer  the  landscape  flower  of  the  marshes, 
inseparable  from  the  scene  from  late  July  until  early 
Autumn  days  give  precedence  to  yellows  and  pur- 
ples, preparing  the  eye  for  Autumn  leaf  colors. 

All    along    the    eastern    coast,    wherever   water 
courses,  this  Mallow,  often  higher  than  the  height 


60  ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS 

of  the  tallest  man,  rears  its  hollow  stems,  from  a 
perennial  rootstock,  and  opens  its  flowers  wide  as  a 
hand's  breadth.  They  range  in  color,  like  the  pink 
Azalea,  from  blush -white  through  deep  rose  to 
almost  crimson  in  the  unopened  bud.  Far  up 
rivers  and  by  inland  lakes,  wherever  a  salty  flavor 
tempts  it,  the  Mallow  flourishes;  and  though  it  is 
water -loving,  if  a  place  where  it  is  firmly  fixed  is 
drained,  and  the  conditions  changed,  it  will  still 
live  bravely  on,  though  smaller  and  paler. 

In  the  hand,  Rose  Mallow  is  a  coarse  flower, 
perfect  in  color  only  on  its  first  morning  of 
blooming.  Its  leaves  are  rough  and  quick  to  lose 
their  shape,  and  every  stalk  is  made  ragged  by 
faded  blooms  and  rough  seed-pods.  As  it  grows, 
each  tint  of  color,  from  palest  to  deepest,  reflects 
among  the  strong  leaf  shadows,  and  the  whole, 
thrown  in  relief  by  a  background  of  deep  green 
reeds,  is  something  to  seek  and  gaze  upon.  Then 
we  may  keep  its  color  memory  alone,  though  its 
outlines  may  be  treasured  with  the  aid  of  the  cam- 
era's eye  ;  for,  like  the  field  of  Fleur-de-Lys,  it 
is  unpaintable  by  human  hands.  Are  we  not  over- 
bold when  we  try  to  reproduce  in  detail  by  direct 
color,  that  perfection  of  flower  beauty  born  of  a 
combination  of  its  natural  tint,  atmosphere,  reflec- 


w^  i 


ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS  6 1 

tions,   and  the  veiling  influence  of  the  vision  that 
transmits  it  to  the  brain  ? 

Those  who  do  not  really  know  a  flower  in  its 
home,  as  one  knows  the  varying  expressions  of  the 
eyes  of  a  beloved  one,  clamor  for  a  colored  counter- 
part, no  matter  how  crude.  But  those  who  really 
know,  prefer  the  black  and  white  suggestion  of  the 
scene,  and  leave  the  rest  to  memory.  To  paint  the 
wild  flowers  as  their  lovers  see  them  growing,  or  a 
child's  face  as  its  mother  knows  it,  requires  the 
gift  of  heaven -born  genius. 

The  sultriness  left  the  air,  and  a  refreshing 
breeze  that  blew  down  the  river -glen  from  the 
northwest  suggested  a  thunder  shower  back  among 
the  hills.  Flower  Hat  sprang  up  and  danced  a  few 
jig  steps  "to  wake  up  her  feet,"  she  said,  "which 
had  been  asleep,  though  she  had  not." 

Nell  awoke  with  a  snort,  and  then  sneezed; 
we  hastened  to  collect  our  traps  and  pack  them 
away,  after  watering  the  pony  somewhat  inefficiently 
with  a  tin  box  as  a  pail,  which,  being  shallow, 
necessitated  eight  trips  down  to  the  river.  Why 
did  we  not  take  the  mare  to  the  water  instead  of 
the  reverse  ?  Because  at  my  last  attempt,  presum- 
ing on  the  privileges  allowed  her  years,  Nell,  on 


62  ALONG    THE    WATERWAYS 

being  unharnessed,  had  jerked  the  bridle  from  my 
hands,  taken  a  long,  and  —  to  herself  —  satisfactory 
roll  in  the  water,  and  crossed  to  the  other  side! 

"I  wonder  who  lived  there?"  queried  Flower 
Hat,  looking  at  the  little  house  that  stood  in  the 
narrow  strip  of  land  opposite  the  mill,  between 
road  and  rocks.  The  house  was  evidently  aban- 
doned, for  the  gate  was  nailed  up  ;  but  a  worn 
grindstone  stood  by  the  well  and  there  was  a  strag- 
gling mass  of  hardy  old-fashioned  flowers,  strayed 
evidently  from  a  bit  of  garden  at  the  south  side. 

As  I  paused,  unable  to  answer  the  question, 
Time  o'  Year  came  along  on  his  homeward  way, 
his  cabin  being  a  little  farther  on,  Reading  our 
thoughts,  he  answered  them,  saying: 

"The  Keeler  folks  lived  here.  Old  lady  died, 
it  must  be  three  years  back.  Old  man  last  spring. 
All  their  folks  gone  long  ago.  Nothing  left  but 
the  posies  to  mind  the  old  place,  and  soon  that  '11 
shake  down,  and  then  the  posies  '11  have  it  all  to 
themselves.  But  I  reckon  she  'd  'a'  liked  it  to  be 
that  way;  she  was  always  very  private.  There  's 
been  many  a  house  in  Lonetown  you  'd  never  'a' 
dreamed  was  there,  only  for  the  posies.  They  're 
always  the  last  to  leave." 


Ill 

"ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS" 

ON    a   round    hill-top,    so    abrupt    that   you 
might  have  jumped  from  it  down  to  the 
winding    river    valley,    stands    the    Lilac 
House.      Those    who    built    it    there,    long    time 
ago,  surely  had  keener   eyes  for   beauty  than  their 
neighbors,    for,   as    in    the    case    of    many    remote 
farming   hamlets,    Lonetown    had    usually    built    its 
scattering    houses   in    hollows,    using   the    hills    for 
windbreaks,  its  people  being  content  to  have  before 
them    no    more    distant    prospect    than    a    barn,    a 
woodshed,  a  fowl -house,   or  a  hayrick  or  two. 
The   Lilac    House   might    have   been    a   watch - 


64  ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS 

tower,  so  well  does  it  command  a  view  that 
spreads  endlessly  from  ridge  to  ridge,  and  follows 
the  windings  of  the  valley  until  that,  too,  is  hill- 
bound.  Sun  and  river  together  made  a  calendar  of 
the  seasons  for  those  who  looked  from  the  small  - 
paned  windows  or  paused  to  gaze,  as  they  slowly 
dipped  the  heavy  sweep  to  draw  water  from  the 
hillside  well.  In  late  June  the  sun  sets  at  the 
northwestern  end  of  the  river -valley,  sinking  slowly 
between  the  overhanging  trees  that  appear  to  screen 
a  doorway  opened  to  it,  while  by  Christmas  time  it 
swings  back  until  it  seems  to  rest  a  moment,  be- 
fore making  its  sudden  winter  exit,  behind  a  hill 
that  marks  the  river's  southern  limit  before  it 
turns  easterly  to  reach  the  sound. 

I  do  not  know  who  built  the  Lilac  House,  or 
when  or  how  the  people  who  reared  the  other 
stone  chimneys  that  now  stand  ruined  here  and 
there  for  miles  around, — by  the  sides  of  travelled 
roads,  on  crooked  byways,  or  heading  blind-lanes, — 
came  to  live  in  such  lonely  places,  that  even  now, 
in  this  time  of  push  and  traffic,  they  are  on  the 
longest  road  to  nowhere.  The  fields  from  which 
these  farmers  must  have  drawn  their  food,  are 
now  occupied  by  Goldenrod,  Joe  Pye,  and  Boneset. 
The  pastures  where  the  cattle  grazed  —  fat  cattle, 


'THE    KENILWORTH    |VY    THAT   CLINGS    ABOUT    OLD   5TONE 


ESCAPED    FROM     GARDENS  65 

for  which  the  country  was  noted  once  for  miles 
beyond  Newtown — are  briary  wood -lots.  One  thing 
is  sure:  women  were  in  the  homes,  and  lighted 
fires  on  the  hearths,  the  stones  of  which  in  many 
cases  are  the  only  things  that  stay  to  tell  of  them. 
And  no  matter  how  hard  the  life,  these  women 
had  at  least  one  thought  beyond  the  boundary  of 
woodshed,  barn,  and  hayrick. 

They  all  loved  flowers,  and  from  this  love  has 
sprung  a  half  wild,  shy  plant  race,  which  lingers  for 
a  time,  at  least,  about  the  old  home  site,  and  then, 
according  to  strength  and  kind,  wholly  outlives  tra- 
dition, and,  mingling  freely  with  the  native  growths, 
is  naturalized.  These  flowers  were  first  brought 
from  far-off  homes  in  other  countries,  like  the 
Kenilworth  Ivy,  which  clings  about  stone  steps. 
Many  came  from  English  cottage  gardens  and 
passed,  in  shape  of  seed  or  treasured  cutting,  herb, 
bulb,  or  shrub,  from  hand  to  hand,  cherished  both 
from  the  memories  they  brought  and  for  their  own 
worth.  Now  they  are  recognized,  and  have  distinc- 
tive places;  and  in  the  botanies,  written  against 
their  names,  we  read,  "Escaped  from  Gardens." 

The  Lilac  House,  but  for  some  woman's  love 
of  flowers,  would  be  nameless  now,  unnoticed,  a 
thing  passed  by  without  a  thought  or  second  glance; 
E 


66  ESCAPED     FROM     GARDENS 

for  it  is  untenanted,  windowless.  Its  shingles  flap 
strangely  in  the  wind,  the  woodshed  doors  are  gone, 
the  well-sweep,  too.  The  sun  shines  through  the 
warped  siding  of  the  barn  upon  the  brooding  swal- 
lows and  phoebes,  which  have  claimed  it  as  their 
own  for  many  generations.  The  bank  wall  yet 
remains  that  kept  the  knoll  from  slipping  down  hill ; 
the  stone  steps  are  in  the  gap,  likewise  the  wicket 
gate.  Time  o'  Year  has  shown  me  the  names  of 
its  last  tenants  on  a  grim  slate  slab  back  on  another 
hill;  but  the  woman's  hand  has  left  a  sign  about 
the  old  house  still  better  than  graven  sentences. 

The  Lilac  bushes  once  carefully  set  out  between 
the  foreroom  windows  and  the  porch  have  thriven 
and  run  riot,  until  the  ruined  house  is  walled  by 
them.  Straggling  off,  they  have  also  crept  about 
the  outbuildings  —  indeed,  everywhere  that  grass- 
cutting  has  spared  them.  These  Lilacs  also,  in 
their  turn,  have  brought  tenants  to  the  house  once 
more, — robins  that  nest  under  the  attic  windows; 
a  gray  squirrel  family,  who  live  in  a  broken  cup- 
board, using  the  Lilacs  for  ladders  in  frequent  exits 
and  entrances;  and  cheerful  song  sparrows,  who  set 
their  nests  among  the  gnarled  roots  and  sing  home 
ballads,  perching  on  the  sprays  that  brush  the  earless, 
voiceless  house. 


ESCAPED    FROM     GARDENS  67 

Then,  when  in  middle  May  the  Lilacs  put  on 
all  their  bravery  of  bloom  in  mass  of  amethyst  - 
hued  flowers,  which  by  their  heavy  odor  tell  of 
their  presence  far  down  the  highway,  as  well  as  to 
greedy  bees  that  fly  across -lots,  voices  are  heard 
around  the  Lilac  House,  feet  press  the  grass,  and 
again  human  hands  make  nosegays  of  the  flowers. 

It  may  be  that  the  visitor  is  some  one  who 
knows  the  place  as  I  do,  who  goes  back  each  sea- 
son to  see  young  Spring  following  the  river,  to  sit 
on  the  hill -slope  and  feel  the  ground  silence,  or  to 
stand  before  the  embowered  ruin,  listening  to  the 
massive  music  that  the  bees  drone  out,  which 
seems  like  Lilac  perfume  turned  to  sound.  Or  the 
visitor  may  be  merely  a  stranger,  who,  driving  down 
the  road,  pauses  a  moment  through  desire  for  a 
bouquet. 

These  sturdy  Lilacs  have  kith  and  kin  near  and 
far.  Throughout  all  Lonetown  no  ruined  chimney 
is  without  its  Lilac  bushes;  and  when  Lilacs  ap- 
pear without  a  trace  of  a  habitation,  if  you  search 
among  the  tangled  undergrowth,  you  will  surely 
find  a  heap  of  stones,  the  opening  to  a  cellar  in 
what  seemed  at  first  only  a  bank  of  earth,  or  at 
least  the  stoned  margin  of  a  well  or  hillside  spring  - 
hole.  The  Lilacs  are  plain  to  see;  but  what  hum- 


68 


ESCAPED    FROM     GARDENS 


bier  plants  have  escaped  from  this  and  other  old 
gardens,  long  hid  under  sod  like  their  planters,  to 
stray  away  down  many  hillsides,  or  have  been  in 
the  seed  borne  down  the  river  valleys  and  lodged 
by  water  or  wind  to  creep  into  wild  places? 

Many  plants,  indeed,  have  escaped ;  not  only 
among  those  grown  for  beauty  of  flower,  but  things 
of  use  as  well,  pot  and  garden  herbs,  and  other 

growths  which,  once 
let  loose  from  gardens, 
make  dire  mischief 
among  maturing  crops 
and  hay  lands.  Such 
as  these  is  Orange 
Hawkweed,  or  Devil's 
Paint  Brush.  This 
crept  in,  first  as  a  bor- 
der plant,  easy  to  raise 
and  quickly  spreading 
into  great  patches, 
showy  with  red -orange 
bloom.  Then  it  o'er- 
stepped  its  bounds,  and, 
being  unchecked,  has 
run  its  wild  career  in 
several  states,  starving 


i 


ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS  69 

out  meadow  grasses  by  its  greediness.  So  came 
and  went  astray  Yarrow,  the  Ox-eye  Daisy,  Scotch 
Thistles,  Elecampane,  the  Wormwoods,  Chamomile, 
Tansy,  and  even,  it  is  whispered,  the  unconquered 
Dandelion  itself. 

In  May,  before  the  bushes  round  the  Lilac 
House  have  lost  their  charm,  other  flower -children 
of  that  garden,  set  cornerwise  between  road  and 
hill,  are  opening  their  eyes  down  in  low,  moist 
meadows.  From  deep-rooted  bulbs  spring  tufts  of 
leaves  that  hint  of  the  Lily  tribe ;  from  these  come 
slender  scapes  of  flat -topped  flower -clusters,  whose 
florets  open  white  and  full  under  the  sun,  but 
close  at  night  and  during  cloudy  weather,  showing 
then  a  green  striped  under -side.  This  is  the  Star 
of  Bethlehem,  which  flourishes,  often  luxuriantly, 
among  the  taller  meadow  grasses,  giving  at  a  short 
distance  the  effect  of  a  field  planted  with  white 
Crocuses.  Sometimes  whole  fields  will  be  strewn 
with  the  stars,  so  rank  in  their  profusion  that  from 
the  road  I  have  more  than  once  thought  them 
Anemones,  until  the  sight  of  some  vestige  of  a 
house  near  by  has  hinted  of  my  error. 

Even  before  this  season,  when  Skunk  Cabbages 
and  Spice  Bush  share  the  swamp  honors,  when  in 
the  gardens  of  to-day  only  Snowdrops  and  Yellow 


7O  ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS 

Daffies  brave  the  late  March  air,  along  the  runnel 
edge  below  the  bank  wall,  and  also  in  many  sheltered 
places  on  the  orchard  slope,  blooms  the  sweet 
White  English  Violet,  its  flowers  held  low  above 
half  unfurled  leaves,  all  huddling  for  protection  to 
the  ground  like  some  fragrant  flowering  moss. 

Two  plants  of  old  England's  lore  and  literature 
live  almost  side  by  side  on  this  New  England  hill, 
one  carpeting  the  orchard,  the  other  growing  sparsely 
in  a  fence  corner.  One  is  the  Wild  Thyme  of 
song  and  fragrant  memory,  waiting  for  summer  to 
show  its  minute  purple  flowers  in  company  with 
the  various  Mints  and  Catnip;  the  other  Johnny- 
jump-up,  father  of  modern  Pansies,  the  magic 
flower  of  Puck  called  Heartsease,  in  legend  once  a 
White  Violet,  but  transformed  and  dyed  by  Love, 
who  stole  its  fragrance. 

"Yet  mark'd  I  where  the  bolt  of  Cupid  fell: 
It  fell  upon  a  little  western  flower, — 
Before  milk-white:  now  purple  with  love's  wound, 
And  maidens  call  it  Love-in-idleness." 

So  by  a  flowery  way  comes  Shakespeare's  thought 
to  Lonetown! 

In  early  summer,  when  all  the  wild  fields  are 
white  and  gold  with  Ox-eye  Daisies,  Moneywort 


ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS  71 

trails  its  yellow  coins  over  the  orchard  ground  into 
cleared  brush -land,  and  vies  with  other  running 
weeds  in  further  treading  down  the  discouraged 
grass  on  the  thin -soiled  pastures.  Summer  is  the 
flowering  time  of  the  great  number  of  garden  waifs, 
and  through  July  and  August  a  dozen  kinds  are 
locally  plentiful  enough  to  count  in  landscape  color. 
Close  under  fences,  sometimes  following  their 
line,  at  others  gathering  in  great  patches,  grows  a 
little  plant,  never  more  than  a  foot  in  height,  with 
dark,  bristling  green  leaves 
and  flat  yellow  flower-tops. 
At  a  short  distance  it  might 
easily  be  mistaken  for  a  dwarf 
Goldenrod  out  of  season, 
though  a  near  view  shows 
the  florets  to  be  of  the  odd, 
turbaned  shape  that  marks  it 
as  a  Spurge.  This  Cypress 
Spurge  is  one  of  a  tribe  which 
has  a  somewhat  evil  reputa- 
tation,  for  one  member  of  the  family 
is  dangerous  to  handle,  and  this 
pretty  flowering  variety  is  poisonous 
to  eat.  Though  quite  conspicuous 
when  in  flower,  the  Spurge  is  an 


72  ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS 

erratic  bloomer,  and  is  more  frequently  seen  in  a 
merely  leafy  state,  like  the  Orpine  or  Live -forever, 
its  companion  on  rocky  road  banks.  Every  one 
knows  that  persistent  plant  of  thick,  bladder -like 
leaves  and  many  names  by  sight,  but  usually  by  the 
leaf  alone,  for  I  have  seen  waste  fields  and  road 
banks  covered  with  it  season  in  and  out,  and  found 
perhaps  only  a  half  dozen  stalks  of  its  pink -purple 
flowers. 

In  July,  when  cheerful  Toad  Flax  is  at  its  best, 
the  steep  bank  following  the  roadside  from  the  Lilac 
House  down  to  the  turnpike  often  wears  a  tint  of 
purple-blue, —  an  unusual  color  in  New  England's 
byways  before  Aster  time.  Standing  firmly  rooted 
between  stones,  topping  the  brilliant  yellow  and 
orange  Toad  Flax,  the  Blue  Bells  of  Scotland  are 
ringing  a  midsummer  call  —  if  unheard  of  men,  still 
intelligible  to  the  myriad  flying  insects  that  swarm 
about  the  flowers  at  the  summons.  Not  alone  on 
this  hillside,  but  everywhere  about  the  country,  you 
will  find  this  most  captivating  flower,  far  away  from 
any  house  site,  on  sandy  hilltops,  or  quarry  edges, 
or  set  in  jewel -like  clusters  in  the  emerald  of  a 
pasture.  So  again,  through  a  pinch  of  seed  and  a 
woman's  care,  does  Old  World  poetry  creep  through 
New  England  fields,  breaking  their  rigor. 


ESCAPED    FROM     GARDENS  73 

When  we  have  wandered  over  other  hills  and 
lingered  about  other  old  gardens,  in  late  July  the 
Lilac  House  calls  us  back  again,  for  then  when  the 
grape-vines,  clinging  to  the  fence -pickets,  have  shed 
their  spicy  flowers,  Bouncing  Betsy  comes  out  by 
the  gateway  and,  rollicking  to  the  roadside,  quite 
fills  the  little  corner  with  the  fragrance  of  her 
wholesome  pink-white  flowers,  with  odor  sugges- 
tive of  Sweet  William  and  border  Pinks,  to  whose 
tribe  Bet  belongs. 

Of  all  the  herbaceous  plants  that  have  escaped 
from  gardens,  Bouncing  Betsy  is  the  most  con- 
spicuously vigorous  colonist.  Free  from  bad  habits, 
she  is  sure  of  a  welcome  everywhere,  whether  she 
yields  single  pink-like  blossoms,  or  in  a  fit  of  un- 
explainable  generosity  gives  double  flowers. 

"Escaped  from  gardens"  is  a  term  that  covers 
many  vines  and  bulbous  growths,  as  well  as  border 
plants  and  pot  herbs.  As  for  the  latter,  you  can- 
not walk  a  hundred  yards  across  a  low  meadow  or 
by  an  untrimmed  road  or  lane,  without  having  some 
one  of  their  pungent  odors  rise  from  under  foot. 
The  simple  leaves,  squared  stalk,  lipped  flowers, 
and  aromatic  scent  are  guide  posts  to  the  tribe  of 
Mints,  and  though  but  half  a  dozen,  like  Bee 
Balm,  Bergamot,  etc.,  have  color  sufficient  to  make 


74  ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS 

them  count  as  landscape  flowers,  the  mint  per- 
fume, when  liberated  by  pressure  or  moisture,  gives 
them  distinctive  place. 

Wild  Marjoram,  of  dry,  waste  places,  is  one  of 
these,  Calamint  another,  and  Clear -eye,  a  cousin 
of  the  Salvia  or  Scarlet  Sage,  a  plant  that  claimed 
a  corner  in  the  garden  because  it  yielded  a  sticky 
juice  that  was  prized  for  clearing  the  eyes  of  dust. 
Scarlet  Bee-Balm,  or  Oswego  Tea,  though  really  a 
native  plant,  judging  from  locality,  owes  its  pres- 
ence hereabouts  to  garden  care,  from  which  it  has 
escaped  again. 

Then  come  the  true  Mints  themselves,  profuse  in 
growth  as  the  wildest  natives,  yet  all  escapes.  Of 
these  Spearmint  takes  the  lead  as  lender  of  juices 
for  sauces  and  cooling  drinks.  Being  a  seeker  after 
moisture,  Spearmint  delights  in  roadside  runnels, 
and  sometimes  appropriates  whole  lowland  pastures, 
giving  no  little  trouble  and  bringing  before  one 
practically  the  ancient  minstrel  query:  "  'Rastus,  if 
a  cow  feeds  on  mint,  what  does  she  gib,  milk  or 
mint  sauce,  sah?" 

"Neever,  sah!  she  doan'  gib  neever.  She  gib 
milk  julep!  " 

From  still  moister  soil  comes  one  of  the  most 
valuable  medicinal  plants  of  modern  as  well  as  of 


ESCAPED    FROM     GARDENS 


75 


past   times.     In  fact,  it  is  surprising  and  gratifying 
to  find  how  many  homely  herbs  are  now  in  high- 
est   favor,  for    Mentha  is  the  base  of  many   newly 
compounded    drugs,     and    from     the 
Wintergreen    leaves    that    Time    o' 
Year  chews   assiduously 
for  stiff  bones  is  distilled 
an  oil,  a  specific  for 
rheumatism  —  at    least 
for  those   whose    stom- 
achs can  stand  its 
toxic  qualities.  }-^ 

Catmint,  or 
Catnip,  is  a  useful 
medicine  too,  both 
for  man  and  beast,  while 
the  flavor  of  Summer 
Savory  reaches  the 
senses  via  the  cook's, 
not  the  physician's,  pre- 
scription, in  company  with  Thyme,  Marjoram, 
Sage,  Bay  leaves  and  other  favorites  of  the  kitchen 
bouquet;  while  Fennel,  the  seeds  of  which  grand- 
mamma when  young  kept  in  her  pocket  hand- 
kerchief to  chew  slyly  in  church,  and  the  Cara- 
way, always  dear  to  cooky -loving  children,  both 


76  ESCAPED    FROM     GARDENS 

escaped  from  the  old  home  gardens  to  lead  gypsy 
lives. 

The  common  blue  Self -Heal  of  waysides  belongs 
to  this  same  group  of  garden  herbs,  and  Wood 
Betony  also,  though  its  colonies  have  overrun  moist 
woods  and  fields,  until,  like  many  another  immi- 
grant, it  outranks  the  less  pushing  natives.  But 
useful  as  these  herbs  are,  and  even  interesting  as 
plants,  they  appeal  mostly  to  the  senses  of  smell 
and  taste,  the  eye  having  little  pleasure  in  them. 

Flower  Hat,  who  to-day  begged  to  come  again 
with  me,  (having  of  her  own  choice  forsworn  a 
trailing  skirt  and  high  heels  on  such  excursions, 
thereby  promising  to  be  a  more  serviceable  com- 
panion), exclaimed  at  last: 

"Have  n't  you  spent  time  enough  grubbing  up 
smelly  weeds  ?  I  thought  that  we  had  come  out 
to  find  strayed -away  flowers  and  haunts  —  picture 
things,  you  know.  Here  I  've  been  sitting  for  an 
hour  against  this  fence  until  I  'm  fairly  bored  with 
Bouncing  Bet's  society,  and  I  know  the  Lilac 
House  so  well  that  I  'm  sure  to  try  to  close  one 
of  those  dismal  windows  that  are  n't  there,  the  next 
time  I  have  the  nightmare.  I  don't  object  to 
tumble -down  chimneys  and  old  stone  walls,  or  to 
ruined  waterwheels  and  mill-dams,  but  I  draw  a  line 


/ 


/& 


ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS  ^^ 

at  spending  so  much  time  looking  at  an  empty 
house.  Really,  a  minute  ago  those  two  front  win- 
dow-openings seemed  to  stare  at  me  just  like  blind 
eyes,  and  I  felt  creepy." 

"Were  you  quite  broad  awake  ?"  I  asked  her 
teasingly.  "But  you  may  possibly  feel  creepy,  for 
you  are  sitting  on  an  ant-hill!" 

Then  Flower  Hat  grew  wide  awake  enough,  and 
shook  her  skirts  and  shivered,  until  she  found  that 
the  hill,  like  the  Lilac  House,  was  tenantless,  when 
she  started  up  the  road  on  foot,  quite  in  a  huff. 

By  this  time  even  Nell  had  had  her  fill  of  herbs, 
having  finished  a  roadside  bed  of  Spearmint,  near 
where  I  had  let  her  loose  to  graze.  So  we  all,  in 
different  ways,  attached  ourselves  once  more  to  the 
chaise,  and  jogged  along  up  the  river  road  toward 
sunset. 

Presently  I  spied  a  tall,  lean  figure,  hoe  on 
shoulder,  coming  across  lots,  and  was  surprised  to 
find  as  it  drew  nearer  that  it  was  Time  o'  Year 
himself.  I  never  before  had  seen  him  handling  any 
tool  of  greater  use  than  a  gun  or  a  fishing-rod, 
although  I  knew  by  hearsay  that  he  had  retained 
the  few  acres  of  good  ground  that  lay  behind  his 
cabin,  when  he  had  left  the  hill  farm  so  many 
years  before. 


ESCAPED    FROM     GARDENS 


"Been  hoein'  corn,"  he  said,  half  apologetically, 
as  we  stopped  to  greet  him.  "Great  year  for  corn. 
Potatoes  more  'n  fair,  an'  hay  was  also  prime.  I 
reckon  I  never  saw  the  beat.  The  weather  was 
seasonable  all  through.  But  the  weeds  have  had 
good  feedin',  too,  and  it  's  hoein'  every  day  now. 
It  's  kept  me  back  from  the  river  and 
woods  a  lot.  I  declare,  to-day  I  felt  so 
lonesome,  I  jest  had  to  quit  up -field 
work  and  go  down  there  for  a  spell  to 
cool  off.  Where  be  you  goin' — up 
Lonetown  way? 

"Up  on  the  back  Greenfield 
road,"  he  continued,  "there  's  a 
sight  o'    Red  Lilies  that  would 
please    yer.      Yer    must 
know    that    big    stone 
chimney    that    stands    on 
the    left    after    you    pass 
the  church  and  come 
this   way.     Yes,   yer 
can  reach  it  by    the 
cross    lane    going 
back.      The   yard  's 
jest    full   o'   Tiger 
Lilies,  and  the  fence 


ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS  79 

is  full  o'  them,  and  some  is  growin'  right  out  o' 
the  hearth  cracks,  and  some  walkin'  down  the  road. 
Besides,  there 's  Red  Day  Lilies,  the  kind  that 
ain't  worth  pickin',  and  Spotted  Day  Lilies,  the 
sort  that  has  seeds  something  like  Blackberries,  all 
tumbling  down  the  steep  among  the  stones,  back 
o'  where  the  house  stood.  I  reckon  no  picnic 
folks  has  passed  that  way  sence  they  've  been  in 
blow,  or  they  'd  a  yanked  'em  up  roots  and  all,  or 
otherways  spoiled  'em." 

At  this  Flower  Hat  grew  eager.  This  promised 
something  tangible,  at  last;  something  to  please  her 
color -greedy  eyes,  perhaps  also  something  to  sketch, 
surely  something  to  photograph  if  the  breeze,  deli- 
cious enough  for  driving,  would  hold  its  breath 
awhile. 

Having  a  direct  point  in  view,  we  straightway 
then  discovered  at  every  turn  in  the  road  or  fence 
corner,  beauty  to  lure  us  and  delay  our  going.  Here, 
it  was  a  vine  of  Trumpet  Creeper,  using  an  old 
Bell  pear  tree  for  a  trellis.  There,  as  we  turned 
abruptly  to  go  up  a  hill,  full  of  flat  resting-places, 
like  an  easy  flight  of  stairs,  we  faced  a  giant  group 
of  Elecampane.  The  great  rough -topped,  downy - 
lined  leaves  were  clean  and  perfect,  while  the  stalks 
were  topped  by  the  golden -rayed  flowers  that  glis- 


80  ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS 

tened  in  the  sun  with  the  quality  of  worked  metal. 
Nell  stopped  short  on  the  next  flat  when  we  ex- 
claimed in  wonder;  for  after  years  of  experience  she 
has  learned  to  interpret  Oh's  and  Ah's  as  an 
equivalent  for  Whoa! 

Elecampane  is  often  a  disheveled  sort  of  weed, 
a  plant  of  waste  places;  but  this  bunch  was  fully 
six  feet  tall,  and  seemed  like  a  traveller  from  a  land 
of  quicker  growths  than  ours,  that,  losing  its  way, 
paused  to  rest  in  the  rail -fenced  corner. 

Outside  the  boundary  of  Lonetown,  the  houses 
have  been  oftentimes  replaced  by  new  buildings  ad- 
joining thrifty  acres.  Then  the  old  garden  and 
the  new  are  blended,  and  the  escaping  flowers  of 
each  set  out  in  company,  or  else  overtake  one 
another  on  the  road.  We  passed  by  such  a  farm 
almost  as  soon  as  we  gained  the  hilltop.  Of  the 
old  escapes,  the  dainty,  trailing  Coronilla,  of  Eng- 
lish birth,  had  claimed  twenty  feet  of  roadside  for 
its  vetch -like  vines  and  rosy  flower -clusters  resem- 
bling clover -heads,  the  florets  set  crown  wise,  thus 
giving  the  plant  its  name.  Then,  a  rod  or  two 
below,  edging  a  tilled  field,  was  a  crowd  of  single 
Hollyhocks,  pink,  yellow,  and  red,  the  very  same 
as  hob-nobbed  with  Dahlias  beside  the  path  inside 
the  garden;  and  a  half  mile  up  the  road  a  Chinese 


ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS 


81 


Honeysuckle,  such  as  wreathed  the  house -porch, 
turned  a  bending  tree,  some  fence-rails,  and  a  heap 
of  stones  into  a  bower. 

The    Honeysuckles,    both   the    Italian    with    its 
pinkish    flowers,   and    the  yellow  Chinese,   are   far- 


travelling  escapes,  for  both,  holding  their  berries  late, 
when  food  is  scarce,  are  bird -sown,  and  grow  easily 
from  seed.  In  fact,  the  endurance  that  plants  have 
after  their  first  escape  depends  largely  upon  their 
means  of  propagation. 

Birds  scatter  the  seeds  of  all  edible  berry -bearers; 
the  wind  or  hides  of  cattle  the  seeds  of  the  com- 
posite tribe,  according  as  to  whether  their  vessels 


82 


ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS 


are  winged,  hooked,  or  otherwise  tenacious.  Wash- 
outs, sidehill  slides  of  earth,  and  streams  carry  the 
heavier  seeds;  then,  too,  many  plants  have  several 
ways  of  spreading,  both  by  seed,  by 
running  roots,  like  Bouncing  Betsy 
and  the  Lilacs,  or  by  rooting  branches, 
like  heedless  Moneywort. 

All  along  the  way  we  met  single 
stalks  of  Tiger  Lilies  by  the  fences, 
and  here  and  there  bands  of  frail  Red 
Day  Lilies.  One  clump  found  lodg- 
ment in  the  corner  of  a  thick 
stone  wall,  as  if  in  an  urn, 
though  the  house  behind  the 
wall  was  distinctly  new,  and  all 
the  other  fencing  was  of  pickets. 
Not  far  from  this  we  came  upon 
a  tangle  of  the  thorny -bushed  little  Cinnamon 
Rose,  which  is  of  transient  color  and  faint  fra- 
grance, but  always  found  growing  with  yellow  briar 
roses  in  old  gardens. 

A  great  stone  chimney  then  loomed  up,  sheltered 
by  Privet  Bushes  in  full  flower.  Prickly  Ash,  min- 
gled with  a  few  half -dead  Box  Bushes,  outlined  a 
moss-grown  flagged  path;  but  no  Tiger  Lilies.  The 
stones  were  covered  by  the  scalloped  leaves  of  Creep- 


ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS  83 

ing  Sailor,  or  Kenilworth  Ivy,  as  it  is  often  called, 
and  the  same  persistent  little  vine  could  be  seen 
clinging  to  the  stone  heaps  a  long  way  up  the  road. 

"  See  the  patch  of  splendid  blue  Larkspur  over  in 
that  shabby  field,"  cried  Flower  Hat,  standing  up  and 
grasping  the  reins.  "Did  you  ever  before  see  such  a 
mass  of  blue  growing  wild?  It  's  as  if  the  sky  had 
fallen." 

"It  is  fine,  certainly,"  I  said,  crawling  under  the 
fence  (which  here  was  of  bars  instead  of  stones  or 
rails),  followed  by  Flower  Hat,  who  for  obvious 
reasons,  decided  to  climb  over. 

"It  's  not  Larkspur.  It  is  Bugloss,  orBlueweed, 
as  they  call  it,"  I  said,  as  I  drew  nearer  the  patch  of 
color. 

"Now  here  again  is  a  plain,  unforced  illustra- 
tion of  a  flower  that  must  be  seen  in  -its  un- 
troubled haunt  to  be  known  at  its  best.  To  look  at 
that  bank  of  blue,  it  appears,  as  you  now  said,  as  if 
a  bit  of  sky  had  fallen.  Yes,  you  are  improving, 
Flower  Hat.  A  year  ago  you  would  have  said  *  blue 
silk'  instead  of  'sky,'  as  a  simile.  Now  pick  a 
stalk,  and  you  have  an  odd,  but  a  rather  untidy 
looking  flower,  its  bright  blue  suppressed  by  the 
poor  quality  of  its  foliage  ;  in  truth  it  comes  very 
close  to  the  weed  limit." 


84  ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS 

"I  don't  know  what  the  weed  limit  is,"  said 
Flower  Hat.  "I  never  could  word  it,  somehow, 
though  I  usually  know  weeds  when  I  see  them. 
They  are  such  ugly,  homely  things." 

"Like  Peppermint  and  Marjoram?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  no;  those  are  useful  herbs." 

"Very  good.  Then  suppose  we  amend  Emerson, 
boil  him  down,  and  say  that  a  weed  is  a  plant  which 
is  neither  useful  nor  beautiful." 

"Yes,  but  then  how  about  that  Orange  Hawk- 
weed,  and  White  Daisies  and  all  the  Goldenrods, 
you  know?  They  are  lovely,  and  yet  you  told  me 
this  morning  that  they  fairly  eat  up  good  farm  land." 

"Like  many  other  things,  it  all  depends  upon  the 
point  of  view,  united  to  the  very  possible  condition  of 
having  too  much  of  a  beautiful  as  well  as  of  a  good 
thing.  But  look,  there  is  our  chimney,"  I  said  in 
relief,  for  when  Flower  Hat  begins  to  argue,  illogical 
though  she  often  is,  I  have  thought  at  times  that 
she  would  have  been  able  by  sudden  strategy  to 
corner  Socrates,  Thomas  Aquinas  and  Duns  Scotus 
rolled  into  one. 

There  was  the  chimney  standing  alone  with  a 
single  Tiger  Lily  before  the  hearthstone,  while  half 
way  up  in  a  jog  where  the  flooring  must  have  rested 
a  plant  of  Matrimony  Vine  or  Box  Thorn,  with  its 


ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS 


purplish  green  flowers  and  slender  spines,  shot  out  a 
few  branches,  the  larger  ones  some  twenty  feet  or 
more,  climbing  over  the  back  of  the  chimney  and 
falling  in  festoons  to  the  ground.  This  vine  belongs 
to  the  Potato  family,  and  may  be  often  seen  in  wholly 
wild  places,  as  well  as  near  old  gardens,  sprawling 
over  bank  walls  and  when  out  of  bloom  showing 
oval  green  or  deep  red  berries  akin  to  those  of  its 
wild  cousin,  the  Climbing  Nightshade. 

The   Tiger   Lilies,  as   Time   o'  Year   had   said, 
were  lined  along  the  fences  and  gathered  in  groups 
among  the   stone  heaps,    while 
the  Blackberry  Lilies,  which  are 
really  a  species  of  Iris,  covered 
the  slope   back  of   the   garden. 
Such  lavish    and   vivid   color  is 
not  often  equaled  in  a  garden, 
for   Lilies    which, 
from    their    stiff 
growth,  should  be 
urged  to   run  riot 
and    break   ranks, 
when    planted    in 
neat  rows  do  not 
fill   the   wild    na- 
ture -  loving     soul 


86  ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS 

with  joy.  Here  the  tall  stalks,  coming  from  old 
bulbs,  were  sheltered  by  the  flowers  from  others  of 
graded  heights,  and  the  whole  stood  out  against  a 
ground  of  either  green  Lilac,  Privet  or  Hawthorn 
bushes.  Even  here  on  the  edge  of  Lonetown  the 
home -loving  woman's  hand  had  planted  bushes  of 
English  May,  which,  less  transient  than  humanity, 
stayed  behind  to  whisper  of  her  native  land  to 
the  spring  moon,  if  none  else  heeded. 

If  you  wish  to  know  how  far  New  England  is 
bone  of  Old  England,  trace  the  ancestry  of  these 
plants  that  have  "escaped  from  gardens"! 

The  near  slope  was  gay  also  with  Orange  Day 
and  Blackberry  Lilies,  but  these  seemed  pale  when 
brought  into  close  contrast  with  the  barbaric  black 
spotted  Tiger  Flower  of  the  recurved,  clawed 
petals. 

"Camera  or  water -color  box?"  I  said  to  Flower 
Hat. 

"Both,  and  then,  ten  to  one,  we  miss  it  wholly," 
she  answered,  going  cautiously  to  the  well  to  let 
down  her  water -cup  by  a  string,  for  old  wells  are 
treacherous,  both  to  drink  or  to  dip  from,  and  had 
best  be  left  alone. 

"You  take  the  chimney  and  single  Lily  and  I'll 
try  the  easiest  group,"  she  added;  "because  the 


ESCAPED    FROM     GARDENS  87 

breeze  has  sprung  up  again  and  the  flowers  are  all 
wabbling  this  way  and  that,  like  heads  in  a  street 
crowd." 

"How  I  wish  that  these  flowers  might  stay  here, 
and  go  on  growing  and  spreading.  But  some  one  is 
sure  to  come  and  root  them  up,"  I  half  said,  half 
sighed,  as,  at  the  end  of  an  hour,  we  turned  to  come 
away.  "Your  sketch  is  really  very  mussy,  and  the 
Lilies  look  very  much  like  fat  Poppies.  If  only  the 
wind  would  drop  for  one  single  second  I  could  get 
at  least  a  fine  outline  of  it  all.  But  it  is  useless  to 
snap  at  a  brick -red  flower  when  you  wish  detail.  I 
wonder  if  the  Lily  by  the  chimney  moved.  I  think 
not." 

"For  my  part,  I  prefer  painting  to  photography," 
said  Flower  Hat,  packing  up  her  colors.  "  Now, 
I  'm  perfectly  certain  that  my  sketch  is  mussy,  and 
a  failure,  so  my  mind  is  settled  about  it,  while  you 
cannot  be  sure,  yes  or  no,  about  your  chimney  until 
you  go  home  and  work  magic  with  the  plate  in  that 
stuffy  dark-room.  Such  long  suspense  as  that  would 
quite  unnerve  me. 

"Please,  Madam  Pick -not- dig-not- but-stand- 
and- admire,  may  I  take  home  a  few  of  those  Tiger 
Lilies  to  copy  and  paint  neatly,  accurately  and  inar- 
tistically  on  a  china  plate?  " 


88  ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS 

So  we  began  to  laugh  as  she  gathered  a  huge 
armful  from  places  where  their  loss  would  not  alter 
the  setting  of  the  picture.  But,  as  she  stood  in  the 
chaise  arranging  the  Lilies  in  the  thrown -back  hood 
which  I  so  frequently  used  as  a  carry- all,  I  saw  the 
expression  of  her  face  change.  She  gave  a  little  gasp 
and  stood  quite  still,  looking  back  at  the  Lilies,  upon 
which  the  slanting  rays  of  the  sun  shone  in  a  way 
to  change  the  whole  perspective. 

"I  see  now  what  you  mean  about  a  flower  in  its 
haunt  having  a  different  poise,  a  different  meaning 
from  a  flower  in  the  hand.  You  are  quite  right. 
I  can  already  feel  the  difference  between  the  grow- 
ing and  the  picked  Lily,  even  though,  at  best,  they 
are  rather  wooden,  unsympathetic  flowers." 

"Not  exactly  wooden,  though  not  sympathetic," 
I  urged.  "Say  decorative,  pure  and  simple  flowers 
of  the  landscape;  flowers  that,  when  gathered,  we 
should  arrange  indoors,  environed  as  nearly  as  possi- 
ble with  the  light,  shade,  background  and  colors  of 
their  homes.  I  think  that  this  is  the  true  secret 
of  the  house  use  of  wild  flowers.  If  we  cannot 
touch  them  without  their  shrinking  from  us,  if  we 
may  not  bring  and  retain  even  the  faintest  sugges- 
tion of  their  surroundings  with  them,  either  in  foli- 
age, bark  or  moss,  as  in  the  case  of  Spring  Beauty, 


ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS  89 

Arrowhead,  Pickerel  Weed,  Cardinal  Flower,  then 
it  were  best  to  leave  them  where  they  grow." 

"Let  us  go  home  the  back  way  by  that  deserted 
house  we  saw  the  other  day,  opposite  the  mill,  where 
we  took  luncheon,"  said  Flower  Hat.  "I  want  to 
keep  a  sketch  and  thought  of  that  just  as  the  old 
people  left  it,  before  it  grows  blind  and  deaf,  win- 
dowless,  doorless  and  weird,  like  the  Lilac  House. 
I  wonder  if  there  is  anything  newer  to  escape  from 
that  poor  little  garden  than  the  other  flowers  we 
have  found  hereabouts!" 

"Here  are  two  plants,  in  addition  to  Phlox  and 
Bachelor's  Buttons,  which,  unless  I  am  much  mis- 
taken, will  soon  be  travelling  down  the  roadway 
and  be  carried  by  the  river  to  the  fertile  fields  be- 
low," I  said  a  little  later,  as  we  unhasped  the  gate 
and  looked  at  the  little  array  of  flowers  kept  in  a 
tangled  line  by  a  row  of  flat  river  stones  set  upright 
at  each  side  of  a  path,  made  also  of  flat  stones. 

"This  prickly  Mexican  Poppy,  with  its  white  - 
striped  leaves,  has  already  sown  itself  below  the 
road  bank  on  the  river -side.  I  noticed  it  the  last 
time  we  were  here.  Then  here  is  yellow  Candy- 
tuft, whose  seed  has  caught  far  up  on  that  rock 
ledge  yonder,  and  here  is  another  Orpine,  which  is 


9O  ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS 

sure  to  spread  like  the  Live -forever  we  saw  to-day; 
besides,  these  seeding  tufts  of  Columbine  are  likely 
to  become  settlers.  They  bore  white  flowers  in 
May;  I  saw  them  once  in  passing,  and  that  day, 
too,  the  old  man  Keeler  was  fussing  about  the 
garden.  This  bunch  of  Prince's  Feather,  which 
droops  its  coarse  red  plumes  over  the  wickets,  is 
already  common  in  places  all  up  the  road,  as  far  as 
Georgetown  and  the  Ridge.  It  is  a  sort  of  big 
cousin  of  the  pink  Knotweed,  that  edges  the  road 
at  home,  between  the  marshes,  the  beach  and  Sun- 
flower Lane.  Then  here  are  Bachelor's  Buttons  and 
Catchfly,  that  has  strayed  both  up  and  down  the 
road,  followed  by  that  white  and  purple  Phlox.  As 
for  the  common  garden  Sunflower,  it  has  escaped 
everywhere.  I  think  this  very  place  has  long  since 
sent  a  colony  down  stream  to  locate  by  the  cross- 
road bridge,  where  a  different  soil  has  somewhat 
changed  its  form  of  growth.  Two  years  ago  I  saw 
them  there,  and,  at  a  little  distance,  took  them  for 
Earth  Apples  or  Jerusalem  Artichokes,  but  they  were 
only  plain  Sunflowers  escaped  from  gardens. 

"This  same  Artichoke,  now  so  often  seen  by 
waysides  and  in  modern  gardens,  escaped  far  back 
in  the  dim  past  from  a  cultivation  of  which  no 
record  even  remains;  it  was  planted  and  tended  by 


ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS  9 1 

aboriginal  people,  of  whose  coming  and  passing  we 
do  not  know.  The  plant  belongs  in  Asia.  Did 
a  lost  tribe  bring  it  journeying  eastward  at  a  time 
when,  through  Alaska,  the  east  and  western  conti- 
nents were  one?  Who  can  say,  except  that  by  a 
flower  there  lives  a  link,  binding  the  now  to  things 
beyond  the  sight.  So  through  a  wayside  plant  race 
history  comes  to  Lonetown." 

Time  o'  Year  came  down  the  road  leading  home 
his  cow  from  her  grazing -ground  by  the  upper  pond. 

"I  think  if  I  were  not  here  he  would  tell  you  a 
bit  of  news,"  said  Flower  Hat.  "I  'm  sure  that  he 
has  something  on  his  mind." 

"Makin'  a  long  day  of  it,  considerin'  ye  've 
spent  it  all  along  the  roadsides,"  he  said,  pausing 
to  let  the  cow  snatch  up  a  tempting  bit  of  clover. 

"Yes;  we  've  been  thinking  of  people  and  old 
gardens,  instead  of  looking  for  really  wild  flowers. 
It  is  hard  to  understand  why  in  all  these  forgotten 
places  the  flowers  are  the  last  things  to  leave  ex- 
cept the  very  stones.  I  wish  that  I  could  read 
the  meaning  of  it  all  between  the  lines." 

"Meaning?"  queried  Time  o'  Year,  looking  down 
the  river,  his  rare  smile  spreading  over  his  bronzed 
face  as  he  paused  a  moment  to  listen  to  the  rolling 
warble  of  a  rose -breast.  "There  's  lots  of  meanings 


92  ESCAPED    FROM    GARDENS 

that  we  are  n't  meant  to  read  in  outdoor  things  as 
well  as  human  ways,  but  I  reckon  that  one  's  plain 
enough.  It  's  that  we  ought  to  be  keerful  not  to 
plant  things  in  our  gardens  that,  when  we  air  gone, 
will  trouble  other  folks  and  bring  discredit  on  us." 
Time  o'  Year  smiled  again,  as  if  he  could  see 
more  meanings  than  he  voiced,  and,  giving  the  rope 
a  gentle  pull,  led  the  cow  down  to  a  clear,  quiet 
pool  to  drink,  the  clean  Mint  fragrance  rising  from 
their  trail. 


IV 
IN  SILENT  WOODS 

'YSTERY  is  the  keynote  of  the  wood- 
lands. When  we  enter  them,  the 
range  of  the  eye  is  instantly  short- 
ened, deflected  in  a  dozen  ways  from 
the  pursuit  of  a  direct  object.  The 
light,  set  a -quiver  by  restless  leaves, 
glances  from  tree -bole  to  tree -bole, 
destroying  all  sense  of  direction,  and 
concealing  the  outlines  of  both  ani- 
mals and  flowers  by  an  atmospheric 
color  protection,  so  that  it  is  quite  possible  to  lose 
one's  way  in  even  a  familiar  bit  of  pathless  woods. 
The  forest  juggles  with  the  ear  as  well  as  with 
the  eye.  The  wind  in  the  upper  branches  causes 
the  leaves  to  patter  against  each  other  like  the 
first  hurried  drops  of  a  shower,  while  below  all  is 
airless,  suffocating.  Then  the  pattering  suddenly 
ceases,  and  a  ground  breeze  sweeps  through  the 
Ferns,  that  bend  and  sway,  but  with  an  utter 
silence  that  is  incomprehensible.  A  branch  cracks 
a  hundred  yards  away  —  it  seems  at  the  elbow. 

93 


94  IN    SILENT    WOODS 

You  step  on  a  dead  twig,  and  it  gives  out  a  per- 
cussion like  the  snapping  of  a  distant  trigger.  Scar- 
let Tanager  utters  his  clear  call,  apparently  close 
above  your  head.  You  seek  but  cannot  see  him, 
for  he  may  be  either  three  or  many  rods  away. 
You  grope  about  half  a  day  for  a  desired  flower, 
and  finally,  sitting  upon  the  moss  to  rest,  in  despair 
of  finding  it,  you  discover  that  it  surrounds  you  on 
every  side.  In  the  woodlands  one  may  always 
expect  the  unexpected;  and  it  usually  happens. 

It  would  also  seem  that  a  peculiar  temperament 
in  both  animal  and  plant  life  is  necessary  to  make 
the  isolation  from  society,  sun,  and  air  endurable; 
for  by  woodlands  I  do  not  mean  the  woody  fringes 
that  border  meadows,  spring  up  under  the  pro- 
tection of  highway  fences,  or  thirstily  follow  the 
edge  of  a  river,  but  the  forest  as  nearly  prime- 
val as  we  may  find  it  in  a  heedlessly  woodwast- 
ing  region,  where  legitimate  felling  of  the  ma- 
ture tree  for  timber  is  too  often  followed  by  the 
destruction  of  the  sapling  for  cord -wood,  and  of 
nearly  all  shrubby  growths  for  kettle  or  pea -brush; 
the  untracked  forest,  where  the  red -tail  and  red- 
shouldered  hawks  still  nest,  in  company  with  a 
pair  or  two  of  great  horned  owls,  where  the  oven- 
bird  pitches  its  tent  on  a  prairie  of  Ground  Pine, 


IN    SILENT    WOODS 


95 


and  the  ruffed  grouse  scratches  dry  Beech  leaves 
together,  to  nest  her  cream -brown  eggs  and  at  the 
same  time  help  conceal  them.  These  untroubled 
woods  are  where  no  roadway,  nor  bush -cutting,  nor 
trampling  to  and  fro  has  encouraged  weedy  under- 
brush, or  caused  the  deep  black  soil  to  wash  away 
between  the  rocks  ;  where,  on  moist 
plateaus,  catching  rare  sunlight  on  its 
pinkish,  sharply  recurved  petals,  the 
Shooting  Star  is  found. 

"Nothin'  much  that  kin  move  seems 
to   like    the   very    big   woods   for   livin' 
in,"  said  Time  o'  Year  one  day, 
as  he  returned  from   the    Hem- 
lock ridge,  axe  on  shoulder. 

He   was    glancing   at  a    stalk 
of    blackening    Indian     Pipe, 
which  was  the  flower  of  the  day 
in   the    buttonhole   of   his   shirt. 
Though    he    protested    at 
the    wholesale     uprooting 
of  wild  things,   he  always 
wore    a    flower    in    shirt, 
vest,    or    coat,    as    season 
and  garment  varied;     and 
when  frost  raised   its  fin- 


96  IN    SILENT    WOODS 

ger,  a  bit  of  aftermath  —  Winterberries,  a  Witch 
Hazel  pod  —  a  sprig  of  Cedar  or  of  Hemlock  re- 
placed the  flower. 

"The  coons  and  foxes  that  hole  up  in  woods," 
he  continued,  "sort  of  keep  to  the  edges,  and  al- 
ways go  out  field  or  along  the  rivers  to  feed.  Even 
the  kind  o'  hawks  that  set  their  nests  in  the  tops 
o'  the  big  trees,  and  the  little  warbling  birds  and 
two  kinds  o'  thrushes  that  build  low,  seem  in  a  hurry 
to  be  off  when  nesting  and  molting  's  over.  Take 
me  now;  I  could  n't  live  away  from  woods,  but  then, 
again,  to  live  in  'em  would  be  too  solemn.  Ye 
can't  see  what  's  comin',  only  what  's  been  by  and 
left  tracks.  As  far  as  huntin'  goes,  that  's  fair 
enough;  but  for  livin',  it  's  right  down  discouragin'. 
You  've  got  to  see  ahead.  For  posies  now  it  's  dif- 
ferent, though  there  's  heaps  o'  wood -bred  kinds 
that  straggle  out  into  clearin's,  or  mebbe  stay  on 
when  the  woods  air  cleaned  above  'em,  that  seem 
to  do  first-rate.  But  there  's  others  that  are  n't 
the  same  unless  you  go  up  in  the  woods  to  see  'em. 
Mebbe  they  'd  grow  just  as  big,  or  bigger  even,  in 
dooryards,  but  they  look  homesick  and  strange.  Af- 
ter they're  once  teched  something  's  gone  from  'em. 
If  ye  want  to  learn  wood  posies  ye  must  do  it  in 
the  woods. 


IN    SILENT    WOODS  97 

"Ye  ought  to  have  seen  that  Pipe  Plant  up  yon- 
der under  the  Hemlocks,  the  same  place  that  pink 
Ladies'  Slippers  grow  in  May.  It  looked  just  like 
snow  comin'  up  through  the  ground  and  burstin* 
into  flowers;  but  take  it  out  in  the  sun,  it  's  terrible 
dead  to  see.  The  Ladies'  Slippers,  too,  were  just 
like  butterflies,  a-perchin'  up  there  on  the  bank; 
but  them  that  some  o'  the  Hill  Top  folks  yanked  up 
and  put  in  the  garden  looked  like  lumps  o'  raw  meat 
with  flies  a  buzzin'  round  'em.  Take  even  Laurel 
and  Dogwood,  that 's  tough  and  hardy;  't  ain't  the 
same  when  they  're  all  trimmed  and  platted  out  in 
beds  in  the  open  grass,  even  if  they  do  grow." 

Time  o'  Year  had  the  right  of  it,  as  usual.  To 
transplant  a  wild  flower  without  making  a  semblance 
of  its  haunt  in  its  surroundings  is  to  leave  its  attri- 
butes behind.  Even  those  that  thrive  in  cultivation, 
though  they  may  gain  in  bodily  vigor,  lose  the  at- 
mosphere that  lent  them  charm,  and  soon  become 
the  commercial  plants  of  florists.  Thus  they  take 
the  first  step  on  the  road  that  leads  parallel  to  the 
path  to  the  hades  of  nature -lovers,  the  carpet  gar- 
den, once  within  whose  gates  those  that  have  en- 
tered willingly  and  knowingly  must  abandon  all  hope 
of  better  things.  And  yet  the  characteristics  of 
wood  plants  are  so  marked  that  they  will  long  sur- 
G 


98  IN    SILENT    WOODS 

vive  the  destruction  of  their  haunts  if  they  them- 
selves are  left  untouched.  The  surroundings  may 
alter,  the  sheltering  trees  disappear,  but  so  long  as  a 
footing  remains,  or  a  drop  of  moisture  to  refresh 
them,  the  wood  things  retain  a  native  dignity. 

To  consider  every  Flower  and  Fern  that  may  be 
found  in  shady  ways,  on  wood  edges,  on  half -cleared 
lands  or  following  the  water  courses  as  they  wind 
through  forests,  would  be  to  catalogue  more  than  half 
the  native  flowers  that  bloom  from  Arbutus  until 
Witch  Hazel  time;  yet  the  greater  number  of  the 
landscape  flowers  of  the  New  England  woods  may 
be  gathered  from  four  tribes:  the  Lily  family,  the 
Dogwood,  Viburnum  and  the  Heath,  though  in  the 
botanic  world,  for  the  reason  of  the  great  variety  of 
forms  it  held,  the  Heath  Family  has  lately  been 
divided  into  separate  households. 

When  Time  o'  Year  brushed  the  dead  leaves 
from  the  pink  Arbutus  buds  he  opened  the  first  page 
of  this  wonderful  Heath  Family  register,  which  never 
closes  the  whole  of  the  round  year,  for  the  pungent 
fruits  of  the  Checkerberry  or  Wintergreen  outlast 
the  winter  and  often  contrast  their  lusty  redness  with 
the  snow  of  white  Hepaticas.  Though  these  fami- 
lies enter  the  woods  almost  in  company,  the  Lily  and 
Dogwood  leading  in  landscape  beauty,  the  Heath, 


IN    SILENT    WOODS  QQ 

possessed  both  of  shrubs  with  evergreen  leaves  and 
exquisite  blossoms  and  also  of  many  strange,  lowly  - 
growing  plants,  transcends  them  all. 

When,  in  May,  Flowering  Dogwood,  either  as 
a  shrub  or  a  slender -limbed,  flat-branching  tree, 
flashes  the  dazzling  white  of  its  flower  wrappings  at 
us  from  between  the  trunks  of  tall  trees,  whose  leaf- 
age is  quite  up  out  of  range,  it  seems  as  if  this 
luxuriant  blossoming  among  the  stern  woodgrowths 
must  be  wrought  by  magic.  It  is  little  to  be 
wondered  that  Indian  lore  took  this  flower  as  the 
flag  of  truce  between  frost  and  growth,  and  that 
the  Red  Men  hastened  to  plant  their  maize  as 
soon  as  it  unfurled  before  the  breeze.  Yet,  con- 
spicuous as  are  these  wrappings,  for  the  flowers 
themselves  make  the  small  green  central  cluster, 
at  a  little  distance  they  too  blend  away  mysteri- 
ously, appearing  like  mere  spots  of  light  among 
the  other  shadows. 

At  this  season  if  the  eye  drops  to  the  ground, 
where  it  slopes  sunward  and  the  undergrowth  is 
herbaceous  rather  than  densely  shrubby,  it  may  see 
the  Lily  family  making  its  entrance,  clad  also  in 
purity,  where  the  clean  leaves  and  graceful  petals  of 
the  White  Wood  Trillium  nod  as  they  seem  to  bend 
and  hurry  down  the  slope,  crowding  at  the  bottom 


100  IN    SILENT    WOODS 

as  if  some  Spring  enchantment  born  of  moisture  and 
deeper  soil  were  luring  them  there. 

Others  of  the  tribe  are  blooming  far  and  near. 
Bellworts  are  scattered  all  along  the  way  in  little 
gossiping  groups;  jungles  of  the  leafy  stalks  of  tall 
Solomon's  Seal  conceal  the  humble  nodding  blossoms 
by  the  weight  of  leaves;  Wild  Leeks  are  sending  up 
their  long  flat  blades,  which  disappear  before  the 
flower-stalk  comes,  White  Hellebore  is  uncrumpling 
its  wide  leaves  and  shaking  its  greenish  flower  - 
plumes  in  wet  places  from  which  the  yellow  Adder's  - 
Tongue  is  now  fading;  but  it  is  the  great  White 
Trillium  that  turns  the  bit  of  woodslope  into  a 
picture  unpaintable  save  by  the  Magician  who  alone 
can  render  detail  without  losing  atmosphere. 

Almost  every  flower  pose  is  taken  by  the  tri- 
petaled  blossoms  which,  so  white  in  their  first 
opening,  flush  as  they  mature  until  they  often  fade 
in  rosy  pink, — things  wholly  apart  from  Wake 
Robin,  their  kindred  of  crimson  petals  and  carrion 
odor. 

After  the  Trailing  Arbutus  has  gone  and  the 
Pinxter- flower,  too,  of  what  does  the  Heath  tribe 
boast?  Useful  offspring  in  the  guise  of  Blueberry, 
Huckleberry,  Bilberry  and  Dangleberry,  of  high 
estate  and  low,  going  through  a  score  of  species, 


IN    SILENT    WOODS  IOI 

which  fill  the  wood -edges  and  openings  in  May 
and  early  June  with  fine  sprays  of  small,  whitish, 
bell  -  shaped  blossoms  that  suggest  the  old  -  world 
Heaths  from  which  the  tribe  took  its  name.  The 
blossoms  are  mainly  inconspicuous,  yet  they  count 
for  much  in  masses  and  the  berries  are  all  edible, 
either  for  man  or  bird.  The  leaves,  of  a  tender 
green  at  first,  progress  through  many  shades,  until 
in  Autumn  they  change  to  a  rich  leather-red,  of 
the  same  color  worn  by  the  Pepperidge,  and  so 
carry  the  fire  into  the  underbrush  of  the  woods, 
where  it  burns  as  brightly  as  the  Sumac  flame  on 
the  bare  hillsides. 

In  late  May  and  early  June  white  still  remains 
the  flower  color  of  the  wood,  of  shrubs  and  of 
smaller  trees.  The  Hobble  Bush  opens  its  cymes 
of  florets,  shaped  much  like  a  flattened  garden 
Snowball,  and  soon  the  Maple -leaved  Arrow- wood 
keeps  it  company,  though  the  latter,  like  many  of 
the  Whortle-  and  Blueberries,  is  more  noticeable  in 
Autumn  from  the  peculiar  shade  of  pink  worn  by 
its  Maple -like  leaves.  Meanwhile,  close  to  the 
ground  the  Dwarf  Cornel  or  Bunch -berry  is  imi- 
tating the  blossom  of  its  cousin,  the  Flowering 
Dogwood,  and  holding  its  greenish  enveloped 
flower -clusters  above  a  whorl  of  leaves.  This  plant 


102  IN    SILENT    WOODS 

is   also    better    known    by   the    bright    red    knot    of 
berries  that  follow  than  by  the  bloom  itself. 

Many  wood -plants  that  blossom  in  the  early 
season  must  be  recognized  by  leaf  or  fruit,  for 
people  in  general  do  not  tramp  the  woods  before 
late  June,  when  the  flowery  carpet  is  turning  to 
greens  and  other  leaf-tones.  So  it  is  with  the 
fragile  feathers  of  White  Baneberry ;  its  blooms 
have  faded  by  June,  but  the  compound  leaves 
and  red -stemmed  clusters  of  white  berries  are 
conspicuous  until  frost  and  serve  as  punctuation 
points  to  the  eye  in  glancing  over  the  vague 
masses  of  Ferns  and  Summer  leafage.  Wild  Sarsa- 
parilla  also  parts  with  its  feathery  white  flower - 
balls  in  June,  and  its  bristling  seed -pods,  seeming 
at  first  glance  like  those  of  Parsley,  Caraway  and 
Dill,  tell  its  name  throughout  the  Summer  woods. 
Medeola,  more  widely  known  as  Indian  Cucumber 
Root,  at  the  fertile  season  when  May  blends  with 
June,  raises  a  sort  of  two -story  stalk,  sometimes 
two  feet  or  more  in  height,  with  a  whorl  of  Lily- 
veined  leaves  in  the  middle,  and  another  at  the 
summit  supporting  an  umbrella  of  greenish  white 
flowers.  So  transient  are  they  in  their  blooming 
that  the  outer  florets  often  wither  before  the  cen- 
tral ones  unfold,  leaving  the  cluster  of  shining  ber- 


IN     SILENT    WOODS 


103 


ries  to  tell  the  plant's   name   all   Summer,  as  they 
turn  from  light  green  through  red  to  dark  purple. 

As  for  Medeola's  companion  in  damp  woods, 
the  slender -stemmed  Trientalis  or  Starflower,  cousin 
of  Loosestrife's,  it 
springs  up  as  if  stretch- 
ing to  reach  the  light, 
throws  out  a  wheel  of 
leaves,  a  few  star- 
shaped  pale  flowers , 
which  so  resemble  the 
Chickweeds  as  to  win 
for  it  the  local  name 
of  Chickweed  Winter - 
green,  and  vanishes 
again,  having  no  tint 
of  leaf,  flower  or  berry 
to  win  for  it  a  place 
in  the  wood  -  land- 
scape. 

Now  also  the  Smooth  Sweet  Cicely,  with  its 
much -compounded  leaves  and  flat  clusters  of  fine 
white  flowers  like  all  the  Parsley  tribe,  lures 
children  to  the  woods  to  dig  its  pungent  root, 
dire  mischief  sometimes  following,  for  its  com- 
panion in  -moist,  shady  ground  is  often  the  deadly 


104  IN    SILENT    WOODS 

Poison  Hemlock,  the  two  plants  being  quite  alike 
to  unaccustomed  eyes ;  and  it  is  not  until  the  flowers 
of  Sweet  Cicely  give  place  to  the  strongly  Anise  - 
flavored  seeds  that  any  one  but  a  botanist  can 
tamper  with  the  roots  in  safety. 

Moccasin -flowers  and  a  rare  Orchis  or  two 
bring  alien  color  to  the  wood  carpet  of  dead 
leaves,  Hemlock  needles,  Ground  Pines  and  soft 
Mosses ;  but  Orchids  must  flock  alone  and  not  be 
inventoried  with  less  usual  plants. 

All  this  time,  tight  wrapped  in  buds  of  last 
season's  growth,  like  many  shrubs  of  both  ever- 
green and  falling  leaf,  the  Mountain  Laurel  and 
American  Rhododendron  are  preparing  their  bravery, 
the  one  climbing  the  rocky  steeps  of  the  drier 
woods,  the  other  seeking  moist  glens  and  always 
keeping  under  high  shade. 

All  the  year  the  abrupt  branches  and  persistent 
smooth  green  leaves  of  this  Laurel  have  relieved 
the  monotony  of  gray  rocks  and  tree -trunks.  All 
Summer  the  thick  oval  leaves  act  as  foil  to  the 
juicier  greens  of  Ferns  and  fragile  wood  plants. 
In  Autumn,  as  other  foliage  drops  away,  they 
stand  revealed  as  evergreens,  together  with  Christ- 
mas Ferns,  the  creeping  Polypody,  stiff  Red  Cedars 
and  the  sweeping  Hemlocks. 


IN    SILENT    WOODS  IO5 

In  Winter,  when  snowdrifts  fill  the  valleys  and 
even  the  Cedars  are  a  rusty  bronze,  the  Laurel 
lifts  its  triumphant  bay  wreaths  high  up  on  ravine 
sides  above  ice-bound  rocks.  In  late  spring  the 
old  leaves  droop  awhile  and  look  dim  and  mottled 
in  contrast  with  the  fresh  new  shoots.  Then  soon 
the  bushes  hold  up  their  bouquets  of  rose -fluted 
buds  that,  by  the  Magician's  jugglery,  in  June 
spring  open  into  quaint  five -pointed  umbrella  tops, 
with  ten  recurved  stamens  for  spokes,  their  ends 
well  socketed  as  if  to  support  the  expanded  flower, 
remaining  thus  until  shaken  by  an  eager  bee  or 
the  wind's  jarring,  when  the  spokes  spring  back, 
scattering  the  precious  life-dust  for  the  seed's 
nourishment. 

No  flower  of  wood  or  field,  marsh  or  fertile 
waterway  can  surpass  the  beauty  of  the  freshly 
opened  Laurel,  when  it  pinks  and  pales,  according 
to  soil,  location  and  individuality,  through  all  the 
subtlest  tints  of  flower- flesh.  Yet  no  single  flower- 
cluster  can  give  an  idea  of  the  Laurel  of  the  land- 
scape,—  the  Laurel  that  wraps  rough  steeps  in 
clouds  of  bloom  ;  that,  pale  and  wan,  climbs  up 
the  sides  of  somber,  sunless  valleys  until,  reaching 
the  summit  and  high  air,  it  basks  in  open  places, 
rosy,  as  if  with  its  exertion. 


106  IN    SILENT    WOODS 

Like  the  Flowering  Dogwood,  it  has  a  startling 
way  of  stretching  out  a  branch  of  dazzling  blos- 
soms among  deep  shadows,  as  if  it  were  a  sentient 
thing,  and  knew  that  contrast  heightened  its  tran- 
scendency. 

Peter  Kalm,  the  Swedish  botanist,  when  he  first 
beheld  the  New  World  wilderness  couleur  de  rose 
with  this  flower,  in  reference  to  the  small  Laurel, 
wrote  in  his  journal:  "Its  leaves  stay  the  winter; 
the  flowers  are  a  real  ornament  to  the  woods  : 
they  grow  in  bunches  like  crowns  .  .  .  around 
the  extremity  of  the  stalk,  and  make  it  look  like 
a  decorated  pyramid."  Of  the  Mountain  Laurel 
he  adds,  "It  was  likewise  in  full  blossom.  It  rivals 
the  preceding  one  in  the  beauty  of  its  color." 
We  know  that  he  took  good  report  of  it  to  Lin- 
naeus, his  master,  who  named  the  genus  after  him, 
for  our  shrub  is  no  kin  of  the  Old  World  Laurel, 
the  name  having  been  given  to  it  for  a  likeness 
in  the  leaf. 

As  the  Mountain  Laurel  drops  its  flowers  and 
grows  ragged  for  a  time,  the  Wild  Rhododendron 
begins  to  show  much  the  same  delicate  tints  of 
rosy  color ;  but  the  throat  of  its  wide,  five -cleft 
corolla  is  often  sprinkled  with  varied  golden  spots. 
The  Rhododendron's  leathery  leaf  is  double  as  long 


IN    SILENT    WOODS  IO7 

and  thick  as  is  the  Laurel's;  the  flower -clusters 
and  florets  also,  roughly  speaking,  are  twice  as  large. 

The  Laurel,  however,  blooms  with  more  uni- 
formity than  its  giant  cousin,  and  carries  its  flowers 
more  boldly.  The  Rhododendron  gains  strength 
and  symmetry  when  living  untouched  in  a  wooded 
glen  where  the  branches  twist  and  interlace  to 
form  impenetrable  barriers,  studded  with  perfectly 
formed  bouquets  of  wax -like  flowers,  each  cluster 
growing  from  a  wheel  of  leaves. 

With  the  fading  of  Laurel  and  Rhododendron 
the  upper  color  of  the  deep  wood  vanishes.  But 
on  the  lighter  edges  and  river  banks  we  meet 
white  once  more  in  Clethra  and  Swamp  Azalea, 
both  of  the  old  Heath  tribe  ;  then  we  must  lower 
the  eye  to  Mother  Earth  again,  as  in  the  Spring 
days  of  Adder's  Tongue,  Hepatica,  Anemone  and 
Yellow  Violet. 

Days  of  June  and  young  July,  woods  from  which 

the  Spring  chill  has  passed,  a  bed  of  moss  and 

silence.  Take  no  books.  The  stillness  is  too  ab- 
sorbing and  profound  for  reading.  Go  close  to  the 
earth  and  smell  its  spiciness.  Rest  the  body  and 
travel  with  the  mind.  Focus  the  eye  on  the  un- 
dergrowth with  which  the  foot  is  the  more  often 


108  IN    SILENT    WOODS 

familiar.  Seek  out  mimic  landscapes  of  a  country 
where  stately  Brakes  and  Royal  Ferns  are  trees, 
various  Wintergreens  are  shrubs,  the  various  mosses, 
grass,  crumbling  stumps  and  lichened  branches, 
ruined  castles,  and  squirrel,  lizard,  white-footed 
mouse  and  whippoorwill  the  inhabitants, 

It  is  airless  in  the  deep  Summer  woods,  at  once 
cool  and  oppressive.  You  push  back  your  hair  from 
a  damp  forehead  and  think  of  the  open  places, 
the  glen  where  Time  o'  Year's  waterway  rushes 
through,  a  cool  breeze  always  following  in  its  wake, 
and  you  wonder  why  you  did  not  follow  the  banks 
where  from  time  to  time  you  could  at  least  dip 
your  hands  or  handkerchief  in  cool  water.  The 
restless  push  of  Spring  has  passed.  You  no  longer 
fear  that  some  long -sought  flower  picture  of  the 
season's  moving  panorama  will  slip  by  unseen.  The 
white  flower-balls  of  the  Four-leaved  Milkweed 
close  at  hand  whisper  of  the  sun -hot  fields  where 
live  its  sturdy  kin,  where  even  now  Summer  is 
holding  its  flower  dance  in  open  revelry,  the  Ma- 
gician lending  all  the  colors  of  his  palette  for  the 
costuming.  Then  the  wind  comes  backward  to 
the  wood  and  for  a  time  the  eye  leaves  the  search 
for  broad  effects  and  turns  toward  detail. 

For  the   Summer  woods  one  must  have  human 


IN    SILENT    WOODS 


109 


companionship,  else  the  silence  is  too  oppressive, 
the  stiffening  tension  of  bodily  inactivity  on  the 
vibrant  nerves  is  too  great.  A  woman  may  go 
happily  on  the  flower  quest  in  byway,  lane,  through 
open  fields  or  along  the  waterways,  if  she  numbers 
a  woman  friend,  a  dog,  or  a  patient  horse  among 
her  intimates ;  but  for  the  silent  woods,  man  is 
woman's  needful  com- 
plement. May  there 
not  be  paths  to  cut 
and  gullies  to  cross, 
and  even  snakes  to  be 
killed?  And  it  was  not 
the  feminine  half  of 
mankind  who  was  told 
to  bruise  the  serpent's 
head  with  her  heel  ! 

Lovers?  Yes;  court- 
ing days  are  in  touch 
with  the  silence  of 
wood  rambles,  but  for 
the  flower  side  of  the 
quest,  married  lovers  are  best.  Their  vision  has  a 
far  wider  range.  They  have  the  tranquillity  that 
heightens  memory,  and  they  go  and  come  from  a 
mutual  home,  follow  the  pathways  of  nature  in 


IIO  IN    SILENT    WOODS 

less   fitful   and   feverish   mood   than   those  who  say 
goodnight  at  the  gate. 

All  the  ground  odor  does  not  come  from  the 
earth  itself.  As  you  gaze  dreamily  at  the  infinite 
shadings  of  the  moss,  small  round  leaves  separate 
themselves  from  it,  following  a  threading  vine  hither 
and  thither  until  the  mossy  cushion  merges  into 
a  leafy  bank  dotted  here  and  there  by  waxy  red 
berries.  In  passing  the  hand  over  the  leaves,  new 
shoots  will  turn  back  and  show  the  velvety -tubed 
throat  and  the  tiny,  cross -shaped  flowers  of  the 
Partridge  Vine,  another  wood  plant  that  holds  its 
fruitage  through  the  winter.  Small  as  the  flower 
is,  its  fragrance  is  exquisite,  being  a  refinement 
of  the  same  quality  of  perfume  which  we  find 
in  Clethra,  Lizard's  Tail,  Buttonbush  and  Swamp 
Azalea.  To  pull  a  handful  from  the  mass  is  but 
to  find  a  straggling  vine  that  almost  depends  for 
identity  upon  its  unity  with  its  haunt,  but  seen 
where  it  covers  the  ground  with  green -red -white, 
it  must  be  counted  with  the  decorative  flowers  of 
the  mimic  landscapes  of  deep  woods. 

A  bluish  color,  novel  at  all  times  in  the  woods, 
draws  the  eye  to  a  partly  open  space  where,  clus- 
tered in  the  hollows  between  tree  roots,  there  re- 


IN    SILENT    WOODS 


III 


main  some  belated  tufts  of  low  flowering  Phlox. 
The  first  thought  is  of  wonder  that  a  plant  "escaped 
from  gardens"  should  have  chosen  so  lonely  and  in- 
hospitable a  lodging  ; 
but  memory  comes 
presently  to  aid  the 
eye,  and  names  the 
flower  Wild  Blue 
Phlox,  of  the  same 
tribe  as  both  the 
Wild  Sweet  William 
of  more  southerly 
moist  woods,  and  the 
Creeping  Moss  Pink 
of  dry  or  rocky  soil. 
Rosettes  of  smooth 

^-AjU 

round     leaves     follow  WILD  BLUE  PHLOX 

each  other  from  under  a  Beech  tree,  in  the  strag- 
gling procession  suggestive  of  tap -roots,  while 
groups  with  larger  leaves  support  straight  flower - 
stems  hung  with  scalloped,  bell -shaped  florets,  which 
give  the  perfume,  at  once  sweet  and  aromatic,  that 
is  peculiar  to  the  Round -leaved  Pyrola,  Shinleaf 
or  Wintergreen,  still  called  by  Time  o'  Year  Wild 
Lily -of -the -Valley. 

"Yes,  I  know  it  ain't  a  Lily,"  he  said  one  day 


112 


IN    SILENT    WOODS 


when  I,  half  laughing,  referred  him  to  his  "  study  - 
book."  "But  it  's  just  the  same  to  me  as  if  it 
was,  and  that  's  the  name  she  called  it.  Not  that 
I  'd  wish  to  spread  an  error,  but  just  between  me 
and  her  and  it,  that  posy  '11  allus  be  Wild  Lily- 
o'  -the-  Valley." 

I  wonder  whether  the  day  will  come  when  the 
old  man  will  tell  me  of  the  dead  wife  whom  he 
designates  as  "her,"  and  about  the  boy  of  thirty 
years  ago,  and  why  he  himself  left  the  farm  to 
live  a  hermit  in  the  roadside  cabin.  If  he  does,  I 
well  know  that  the  story  will  be  told  when  he  has 


OAK-LEAVED      GERARDIA 


IN    SILENT    WOODS  113 

raised  his  finger  warningly,  whispered  "Come  and 
see  ! "  and  led  me  to  the  cherished  haunt  of  some 
flower  that  she  knew  under  a  homespun  name. 

The  soft,  dry  Beech  leaves,  crumbling  to  rich 
mould,  end  in  a  sort  of  fairy  ring  of  frail  young 
Maidenhair,  and  Hemlock  sheddings  cover  the 
ground,  where  plants  of  a  strange  form  stretch  up 
scaly,  flesh -like  spikes,  crowned  by  a  few  loosely- 
clustered  flowers.  The  newly -opened  blossoms  are 
yellowish,  the  maturer  violet -pink,  but  except  for 
the  four-petaled  flowers  the  plant  seems  a  fungus 
growth  ;  yet  a  faint  odor  steals  from  it  to  identify 
the  flower,  though  it  is  half  a  parasite,  as  the 
False  Beech  Drops  of  the  old  Heath  tribe,  and  half 
brother  to  the  taller  ice -white  Indian  Pipe. 

Surely  the  Indian  Pipe  itself  is  a  plant  to  con- 
jure with,  and  Ghost  Flower  is  the  most  fitting  of 
its  many  names.  What  thought  had  the  Magician 
when  he  planned  its  evolution  ?  Was  he  dreaming 
still  of  the  Autumn  frost -flowers  born  at  dawn  from 
frozen  sap  and  a  sun -kiss?  Or  was  he  seeking  to 
incarnate  a  fantastic  icicle  in  the  flower  world  ? 

Silent  even  among  voiceless  ways  stand  the  Indian 
Pipes,  unbendable,  and  grouped  like  statues.  They 
do  not  respond  to  the  touch  of  the  low  ground 
breezes  that  turn  the  hedging  Ferns  rudely  about, 

H 


114  IN    SILENT    WOODS 

leaving  them  in  a  mute  flutter  long  after  the  wind 
has  ceased.  At  the  touch  of  man  the  flesh  of  this 
flower  of  translucent  whiteness  blackens;  but  un- 
troubled it  will  linger  in  its  home,  going  through 
various  changes  from  a  drooping  to  an  erect  flower 
with  tints  toward  pinkish  purple  for  a  month,  or 
even  two,  and  I  have  sometimes  in  November,  after 
a  hard  frost,  found  its  then  really  icy  stalks. 

Yonder,  quite  under  the  Hemlock  shade,  the 
stalks  shoot  up  six  inches  or  more  before  they  reveal 
the  flower  that  caps  them ;  in  shape  it  is  a  reversed 
pipe  bowl.  Here  among  the  Ferns,  on  the  Beech 
copse's  open  edge,  though  under  high  shade,  the 
flower -buds  barely  pierce  the  ground  before  re- 
laxing, though  afterward  the  stem  attains  a  greater 
length.  Such  faint  odor  as  the  flower  has  is 
crude  and  chemical,  as  of  something  in  a  transi- 
tion state,  not  yet  to  be  determined. 

There  is  one  day  in  the  July  woods  which,  to 
me  at  least,  is  not  like  other  days.  This  day  is 
when  we  go  to  the  river-woods  to  find  the  mot- 
tled-leaved Pipsissewa,  or  Spotted  Wintergreen,  in 
its  perfect  bloom  under  the  great  Chestnut  tree. 
Not  that  it  is  a  flower  of  a  day,  by  any  means, 
for  it  stays  the  month  out  in  southern  New  Eng- 
land. It  also  gives  good  notice  of  the  coming  of 


IN    SILENT    WOODS 


its  season  by  the  whitening  of  the  globe-shaped 
flower-buds  hanging  suspended  above  the  sharp- 
toothed,  dark  green  leaves,  which  show  light 
marblings  above  and  a  dull  mauve  undertint. 

The  trailing  underground  stem,  sending  out 
both  leaf  and 
flower  branches, 
being  unseen, 
makes  every 
group  appear  to 
have  a  separate 
existence,  but 
the  hand  that 
seeks  to  trans- 
plant them 
works  sad  mis- 
chief. 

The  haunt 
where  we  go 
yearly  to  meet 
this  flower  is  on 
a  hillside.  There 

giant  Chestnuts  touch  branches,  and  the  foot  sinks 
in  soft  moss  and  Ground  Pine,  and  the  Trailing 
Christmas  Green  sets  snares  to  trip  the  heedless. 
The  place  is  a  sort  of  steep  knoll,  bounded  by  river 


IN    SILENT    WOODS 


and  a  wandering  bit  of  marsh  which  few  have 
crossed,  save  sportsmen  and  the  random  seeker  for 
strayed  cattle.  Bog  Moss  floors  half  the  pathway 
over  the  low  ground  mingled  with 
Shining  Club  Mosses,  Sweet  Flag, 
and  Bur  Reeds.  Then  comes  a 
space  of  damp,  sand -covered  stones, 
/  once  a  brook  bed,  and  now  con- 
cealed  by  Creeping  Scale  Moss  or 
Selaginella;  and  on  the  moist,  shady 
bank  above,  the  long,  graceful  white 
flower -spikes  of  Black  Cohosh  make 
a  feathery  thicket,  through  which 
we  push  to  gain  the  knoll,  trampling 
Starry  Campion  on  every  side. 

Once  within  this  boundary,  the 
deeply  compound  leaves  and  long 
flower -panicles  of  Spikenard  make 
us  pause  a  moment  in  admiration. 
This  plant  sometimes  vigorously 
holds  its  blossoms  up  to  the  very 
chin,  as  if  to  bid  us  examine  their 
minute  beauty,  though  the  wine- 
colored  fruit  that  follows  classes  it 
with  those  frequent  wood  things  bet- 
ter known  by  berry  than  by  flower. 


IN    SILENT    WOODS  II? 

Here,  too,  but  little  above  a  foot  in  height,  the 
rare  Ginseng  has  sometimes  lodged,  spreading  its 
leaves,  in  shape  somewhat  like  the  Horse-chestnut's, 
beneath  the  yellowish  flowers  that  also  play  second 
fiddle  to  the  later  bright  red  berries. 

A  few  steps  more,  and  the  goal  is  reached, — Pip- 
sissewa  everywhere!  Occasionally  the  flowery  trail 
is  of  the  green -leaved  kind  called  Prince's  Pine, 
each  plant  rising  a  perfect  mimic  tree,  but  bearing 
smaller  flowers  than  the  Spotted  Wintergreen,  its 
brother. 

Down  on  my  knees  I  go  as  when  Time  o'  Year 
led  me  to  the  Arbutus  bank,  for  these  two  wood- 
flowers  are  kin.  On  my  knees;  yes,  and  farther, 
down  quite  flat,  until  the  flowers  of  recurved,  flesh - 
white  petals  and  pink  stamens,  ranged  like  the 
setting  to  a  central  green  seed -globe,  are  on  a  level 
with  my  eyes,  and  their  fugitive  perfume  is  mingled 
with  the  odor  of  crushed  leaves  and  moss. 

In  Pipsissewa  (lover  of  winter  is  the  name's  in- 
terpretation) culminates  what  might  be  called  the 
leaf -mold  flowers  of  the  woodland  season;  those 
that,  keeping  close  to  Mother  Earth,  brighten  winter 
bareness  with  their  cheerful  evergreen  leaves,  and 
by  their  flowering  distil  the  leaf  decay  of  Autumn 
into  Spring  and  Summer  fragrance. 


Il8  IN    SILENT    WOODS 

Pipsissewa  is  a  picture  flower  in  the  little  land- 
scape of  wood  undergrowth,  and  yet  it  is  one  of 
the  few  blossoms  of  its  class  that  may  be  picked 
and  taken  home  without  loss  of  quality.  Only, 
I  beg  of  you,  cut  the  tree -like  flower -branches 
above  the  ground  instead  of  pulling  them,  which 
uproots  and  wastes  the  trailing  stem  beneath. 
Place  your  bouquet,  which  groups  itself  with  flow- 
ers above  and  foliage  underneath,  in  a  green  glass 
bowl  of  water,  holding  the  stems  in  place  with  tufts 
of  shaded  mosses,  and  you  will  find  that  you  have 
brought  sufficient  of  Pipsissewa's  haunt  with  it  to 
justify  the  picking.  But  do  not  try  to  dig  the  plant 
up,  for  the  chances  are  that  you  will  discover,  when 
it  is  too  late,  that  you  have  despoiled  the  woods 
of  beauty,  only  to  obtain  a  mass  of  rootless  plant- 
stems. 

The  later  season  has  its  wood  flowers,  but  none 
are  so  dear  and  intimate  as  those  that  bloom  from 
April  to  middle  July.  After  this,  the  surprises  are 
in  the  shape  of  Fern  fantasies.  In  midsummer  days 
it  is  the  Fern  that  lures  us  to  the  wood -path,  and 
into  the  moist  glades,  where  already  Jack -in -the - 
Pulpit  has  thrown  off  his  hood  and  is  wearing  a 
cap  of  stout  green  berries. 

Once  again   in  August    the  woods  glow  with   a 


IN    SILENT    WOODS  IIQ 

yellow,  richer  than  any  seen  there  since  Marsh 
Marigold  time.  But  in  late  Summer  this  color  has 
left  the  low,  wet  shade,  and  come  up  to  the  dry 
Oak  woods,  where  leaf  -  mold  is  compacted  into 
blackened  loam,  and  the  undergrowth  is  of  Laurel, 
Blueberries,  Brakes,  and  slender  Wood  Sunflowers. 
In  such  haunts  the  straight,  leafy  stalks  of  smooth 
Yellow  False  Foxglove,  the  branches  all  turned 
upward,  rise  four,  five,  and  often  six  feet.  The 
wide-lipped,  tube-shaped  flowers,  two  inches  in 
length,  smooth  outside  but  velvety  within,  make 
golden  wands  of  the  stalk-top  and  branches,  the 
color  creeping  up  and  outward  as  the  buds  unfold. 

The  old  name  of  this  plant  was  Oak -leaved 
Gerardia,  from  Gerarde  of  herbal  fame  and  from 
its  leaf  form.  It  seems  a  fitting  name,  as  the 
flower  is  dependent  upon  certain  organic  matter  for 
maintenance  and  seems  to  find  a  satisfactory  supply 
of  this  in  Oak  woods. 

False  Foxglove  grows  in  Time  o'  Year's  woods 
also,  and  along  the  glen  road  below  the  Lilac 
House.  But  to  see  it  in  its  glory,  one  must  fol- 
low the  river  down  past  its  mingling  with  the  salt, 
then  thread  Sunflower  Lane  and  take  the  narrow 
track  made  by  hay  wagons  across  the  salt  meadows 
to  Wakeman's  Island. 


120  IN    SILENT    WOODS 

"Are  there  Oak  woods  on  the  beach  -  crest  ?"  is 
your  thought,  I  know.  Yes,  for  the  sea  has  eaten 
its  way  backward  year  by  year  and  century  by  cen- 
tury, until  fresh  and  salt  water  meet  and  mingle, 
where  once  were  only  dry  woods,  fresh  ponds  and 
a  river  glen. 

Nell  well  knows  the  way  to  this  Oak -crowned 
crest,  which,  at  the  high  tides  of  Fall  and  Spring, 
is  an  island.  Even  in  late  Summer  it  is  reached  at 
low  water  only  by  a  soggy  strip  of  road  full  of 
deep  gullies  made  by  the  wagons  carrying  the 
heavy  loads  of  damp  salt  grass  back  to  the  upland 
meadows  for  drying. 

When  we  last  went  on  that  road,  Nell  and  I, 
Rose  Mallows  lined  it,  Sunflowers  almost  closed 
above  our  heads,  Hyacinth  Beans  climbed  over  the 
Alder  bushes,  and  the  lovely  purple  Gerardia  bloomed 
in  the  ridges  between  the  wheel  tracks.  Then 
Mistress  •  Nell  wore  a  mosquito  blanket  and  green 
boughs  in  her  harness,  and  her  mistress,  in  turn, 
was  decked  with  an  Asparagus  bush  upon  her  head 
that  should  have  made  the  haymakers,  if  they 
knew  enough  (which  they  did  not)  think  that 
Birnam  Wood  had  missed  Dunsinane  and  was  wan- 
dering through  a  Connecticut  marsh! 

The   haymakers  only  paused  and  wondered  per- 


IN    SILENT    WOODS  121 

haps  why  a  female  not  financially  interested  in  salt 
hay  should  come  that  way,  when  low  August  tides 
leave  the  marsh  tract  a  freehold  to  the  breeding 
mosquito  swarms.  And,  truly,  crossing  that  marsh 
road  is  for  both  man  and  beast  to  withstand  the 
attack  of  a  million  flying  warriors,  whose  swords 
are  needles.  But  once  over  and  safe  within  the 
Oak  shade,  the  eye  refocused  from  the  glare  of  the 
noon  sun,  the  picture  repaid  for  all. 

A  wheel -track  road  between  low  banks  was 
edged  with  giant  brakes  and  golden  wands  of  the 
Yellow  Gerardias.  Beneath  the  Oaks  a  glow  was 
spread  among  deepest  shadows,  as  if  the  sunbeams 
sifting  through  the  leaves  were  made  prisoners 
where  they  lodged  upon  the  undergrowth.  Over 
and  through  this  color,  as  a  background,  lay  the 
marshes,  with  a  thin  covering  of  water  here  and 
there,  the  spaces  between  the  pools  blue  with  Sea 
Lavender. 

Another  landscape  flower  to  swell  the  list  of 
the  unpaintable;  another  blossom  of  a  day,  too 
frail  to  pick,  unless,  as  I  did,  you  shake  the  opened 
florets  off  and  trust  to  the  opening  of  to-morrow's 
buds  for  your  reward. 

Not  since  the  days  when  the  green  outer  walls 
of  the  Lilac  House  hung  with  flowers  had  I  heard 


122  IN    SILENT    WOODS 

such  bee -droning  and  insect  music  as  around  these 
Gerardias.  I  thought  to  take  a  picture  of  a 
group  that  circled  an  Oak  trunk,  to  piece  out  the 
memory  of  it  in  winter  days.  But  when  the  sea 
breeze  ceased,  every  flower  bell  seemed  shaken 
from  within  by  hungry  diners,  and  disappointed 
new-comers  went  from  flower  to  flower,  failing 
to  find  even  standing  room.  Then,  at  last,  for 
three  brief  seconds  wind  and  bees  were  quiet  in 
unison.  So  was  another  cell  of  flower  memory 
filled,  and  one  more  picture  added  to  my  photo - 
herbarium. 


V 
SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS 

INK  Ladies'  Slippers  is  wonderful  plenty 
this  season  over  in  Old  Hemlocks,"  said 
Time  o'  Year,  coming  suddenly  upon  us 
one  afternoon  in  late  May,  when  I  was 
sauntering  through  the  upper  Hemlock  lane 
looking  for  fertile  fronds  of  the  three  flow- 
ering ferns,  Royal,  Cinnamon  and  Claytonia, 
which    grow  in   the  roadside  runnels,   Nell 
following  at  her  browsing  leisure. 

"I  never  see  so  many  in  bud  and  blow 
before,"  he  continued.  "There  's  usu'lly 
some  bunches  of  'em  in  the  Glen  Woods,  and  a 
few  scatterin*  down  the  ridge  by  Tree -bridge,  like 
as  if  they  was  steppin'  careful  and  choosin'  their 
footin'  so  's  not  to  get  runnin'  and  fall  in  the  river. 
But  up  there  in  Old  Hemlocks  they  're  jest  settin' 
round  among  the  broken  stubs  and  on  the  edge  of 
root  bowls  thick  as  a  picnic;  yet  for  all  that  they 
don't  seem  a  mite  less  curious  than  when  they  're  in 
twos  and  threes.  Every  one  on  'em  looks  '  hands 
off  !'  and  sets  up  a  different  way  from  the  next." 
123 


124  SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS 

Time  o'  Year  thus  keenly  sensed  the  leading 
feature  of  the  entire  Orchid  tribe  —  unusualness. 
To  the  general  public,  even  the  word  Orchid  has 
a  foreign  sound  that  conjures  up  a  flower  of  glow- 
ing color  perched  bird -like  in  the  tree -tops  of  a 
tropic  jungle,  or  entertained  as  an  honored  guest  in 
a  hothouse,  where  all  conditions  are  arranged  to 
suit  the  caprice  of  its  air -feeding  appetite  ;  for  to 
the  majority  the  Orchid  is,  above  all  things,  an 
air -plant.  Yet  of  the  five  thousand  or  more  species 
that  range  over  the  temperate  and  warmer  portions 
of  the  globe,  it  is  only  in  the  tropics  that  the  epi- 
phytes, drawing  their  sustenance  from  the  air,  are 
of  frequent  occurrence. 

The  tribe  of  the  Orchid  comprises  many  house- 
holds under  one  general  roof,  and  the  habits  of 
this  original  family  are  as  variable  as  their  colors. 
An  Orchid  may  grow  from  a  bulb,  a  hard,  coral - 
like  corm,  or  a  mat  of  fleshy  or  tuberous  roots. 
It  may  live  in  a  tree -top  in  torrid  regions,  or  it 
may  inhabit  the  depths  of  cold,  sunless  northern 
bogs  ;  it  may  lend  rich  color  to  the  grasses  of  an 
open  meadow,  or  flourish  equally  well  in  the  dry, 
crumbling  mold  of  evergreen  woods.  It  may,  ac- 
cording to  its  kind,  bear  flowers  a  hand's  breadth 
in  size,  of  exquisite  coloring  to  attract  the  insects 


SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS  125 

upon  whose  services  this  race  so  largely  depends 
for  fertilization  of  seed,  or  it  may  have  a  blos- 
som so  dull  in  color  or  so  minute  that,  as  in  some 
of  the  Habenarias,  a  microscope  is  needed  to  make 
its  naming  sure.  The  flowers  may  grow  singly,  on 
a  wholly  leafless  scape,  in  spikes  or  in  droop- 
ing panicles.  They  may  have  broad,  fringed,  thin, 
narrow,  or  bearded  lips  like  the  showy  fringed 
purple  and  green  Orchises  and  the  rose -colored 
Pogonia,  or  be  pouched,  as  in  the  Cypripediums  or 
Ladies'  Slippers,  both  foreign  and  native.  You 
will,  however,  find  a  strong  family  cast  of  feature, 
an  eccentric  lip  type  in  every  one,  and  if  you  will 
carefully  scan  the  features  of  the  crystal  white 
Rattlesnake  Plantain  and  Ladies'  Tresses  of  our 
woods  and  low  meadows,  you  will  see  the  same 
lineaments  as  in  the  rare  greenhouse  beauties  which 
peer  through  a  veil  of  costly  ferns  to  make  a 
bride's  bouquet. 

Here  in  New  England  such  Orchids  as  we  have 
mingle  humbly  in  the  earth  with  lowly  plants  of 
bog  and  wood,  and  yet  retain  their  marks  of  race 
and  breeding,  for  even  the  children  that  pick  them 
carelessly  on  their  way  "'cross  lots"  or  going  up 
through  the  Tree -bridge  woods  to  school,  carrying 
them  in  tight-fisted  bunches  to  their  teacher, 


126  SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS 

recognize   them    fully   as  being   "not   just    common 
flowers." 

Beauty  and  fragrance  are  the  chief  attributes  of 
this  royal  race.  Even  though  the  seed -pod  of  one 
genus  is  the  Vanilla  Bean  of  commerce,  and  one  or 
two  of  the  tuberous -rooted  species  furnish  a  me- 
dicinal paste,  the  tribe  is  not  so  notable  for  these 
as  that  it  harbors  the  dove-like  winged  petals  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  Flower,  the  Butterfly  Orchid  of 
the  tropics,  the  Moccasin  Flowers  of  our  woods, 
and  the  lovely  fringed  Orchises  of  the  wet  meadows. 

Orchids  offer  structural  problems  quite  as  intri- 
cate as  the  higher  mathematics.  For  every  part  of 
the  flower,  every  color,  tint  and  spot,  as  well  as  the 
specialized  perfume,  has  its  own  share  in  the  sys- 
tem of  signals  which  the  Magician  has  furnished 
the  blossom,  that  it  may  call  the  insect  best  suited 
to  its  needs.  However,  this  whole  subject  of  insect 
fertilization  belongs  to  science,  to  the  biological - 
botanist  ;  it  is  too  profound  and  serious  a  matter 
for  a  Summer  day  in  the  field,  or  to  be  awkwardly 
fingered  by  the  nature -lover  who  follows  the  flower  - 
trail  for  the  pleasures  of  eye  and  ear,  for  the  rest 
it  brings  to  the  brain  and  the  peace  to  the  soul. 
No  less  a  man  than  Darwin  has  confessed  that  after 
devoting  twenty  years  to  their  study,  he  doubted  if 


SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS  127 

he  perfectly  understood  the  contrivance  to  secure 
fertilization  possessed  by  one  single  Orchid. 

Of  the  sixty  species  of  Orchids  found  east  of 
the  Mississippi  and  north  of  Carolina  and  Ten- 
nessee, New  England  claims  a  scant  fifty.  Only 
a  dozen  of  these  can  be  called  landscape  flowers, 
even  in  the  narrowest  sense  ;  the  rest  belong  to 
the  realm  of  the  analytic  botanist. 

One  thing  is  easy  to  remember  about  an  Or- 
chid: the  flower  is  made  up  of  two  groups,  three 
petals  and  three  sepals,  like  so  many  of  the  Lily 
tribe,  its  near  kin;  also  that  of  the  three  petals 
the  lower  one,  acting  as  a  lip  which  is  always 
noticeable,  gives  individuality  and  character  to  each 
species,  while  the  sepals  or  the  outer  three  petals 
often  unite  to  form  a  sort  of  hood  above  the  lip, 
lending  the  flower,  according  to  its  type,  the  appear- 
ance of  a  bird,  a  butterfly  or  some  other  winged 
insect.  It  is  this  peculiar  combination  of  pouched 
lip  and  streaming  petals  and  sepals  that  gives  the 
rare  Calypso  of  cold  bogs,  which  ventures  farther 
north  than  any  of  its  brothers,  creeping  well  up 
into  both  Alaska  and  Labrador,  a  more  truly 
moccasin -like  appearance  than  those  that  bear  the 
name  of  Moccasin  Flower.  Calypso's  shoe,  raised 
on  a  stem  above  a  single  broad  leaf,  is  dull  pink 


128  SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS 

and  furred  inside  with  soft  hairs.  It  has  a 
curious,  overlapped,  double -pointed  toe  of  pale 
yellow;  a  little  rosette  of  shaded  pink  and  yellow 
trims  the  instep,  while  the  narrower  petals  blow 
in  the  breeze  like  ribbons  meant  to  fasten  the  shoe 
about  the  ankle  of  its  phantom  wearer. 

Orchids  have  the  parallel -veined  leaves  that  we 
associate  with  Lilies,  and  in  these  also  there  is 
much  variety,  the  leaves  of  the  species  growing  in 
woods  and  open  places  where  they  have  plenty  of 
room  being  larger  and  more  fully  developed  than 
those  that  have  to  struggle  through  a  heavy  under- 
growth of  grass  and  rank  weeds  in  meadow  and 
bog.  So  that  with  our  native  Orchids  the  leaves 
range  from  those  of  the  Moccasin  Flowers,  where 
there  is  either  a  single  pair  as  long  and  broad  as 
the  -hand,  or  several  large  leaves  growing  up  the 
stalk,  Bellwort  fashion,  to  the  thread-like  appen- 
dages of  the  slender  grass-growing  Ladies'  Tresses 
or  Tracies,  as  the  word  once  read. 

If  the  of  ten -advanced  theory  is  true  that  all  the 
plants  now  bearing  flowers  originally  consisted  only 
of  leaves  like  ferns,  and  that  from  these  leaves  the 
ornamental  parts  of  the  flowers  were  developed, 
then  the  Orchid  has  kept  many  traces  of  its 
ancient  descent,  for  there  are  several  species  of  our 


SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS  I2Q 

inconspicuous  Orchises  whose  petals  still  appear  to 
partake  strongly  of  the  leaf  nature. 

All  this  time  six  feet  are  loitering  along  the 
road  toward  the  Old  Hemlocks,  two  wearing 
leather  shoes  and  four  iron,  both  wearers  absorbed 
in  the  spring  greenery,  Leather -shoes  reveling  with 
her  eyes,  Iron -shoes  with  her  mouth. 

The  Old  Hemlocks  are  not  the  woods  that 
follow  Saugatuck,  Time  o'  Year's  stream,  nor  the 
midway  Aspetuck,  but  the  companions  of  a  river 
that  once  threaded  the  mill-ponds  on  its  course 
like  a  string  of  glistening  beads,  passing  saw-mills, 
grist-mills,  mills  with  great  wooden  overshot  wheels 
that  circled  slowly  like  a  moving  flight  of  steps, 
spreading  magic  rings  of  greenery  about  them  by 
their  splash  and  spray.  There  was  even  a  little 
place,  half  forge,  half  saw -mill,  set  in  a  deep  ravine 
among  the  rocks,  that  turned  out  musket -stocks 
and  axe -helves.  Now  all  save  one  of  the  clatter- 
ing wheels  along  the  river's  course  have  been 
silenced  by  the  decrees  of  so-called  progress  and 
the  buying -power  of  a  water  company. 

Twice  have  these  grand  old  woods  been  wasted 
by  the  axe  and  once  by  fire,  yet  much  of  their 
beauty  still  remains,  for  tirelessly  these  many  times 

I 


I3O  SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS 

does  the  Magician,  Heart  of  Nature,  renew  his 
sway,  bind  together,  replant,  covering  bare  rocks 
with  cheerful  Polypodies  and  softening  decrepitude 
and  age  with  a  drapery  of  vines,  before  he  finally 
yields  his  kingdom,  reluctantly,  to  Heart  of  Man. 

The  great  Hemlocks  from  which  this  wood  took 
name  had  vanished,  some  by  the  axe,  others  blown 
over,  lifting  the  soil  with  their  roots  so  that  de- 
pressions, sometimes  three  feet  deep  and  fifteen 
feet  across,  remained  to  be  filled  in  time  with  pure 
leaf-mold.  These  tree  bowls,  whether  they  are 
found  in  evergreen  or  other  woods,  are  always  sure 
to  be  gardens  of  odd  plants,  and  two  years  before, 
soon  after  the  brush  had  been  burned,  I  had  seen 
groups  of  the  pairs  of  strongly -ribbed  green  le-aves 
that  promised  a  wealth  of  pink  Moccasin  Flowers 
later  on. 

In  giving  English,  or,  as  the  saying  is,  popular 
names  to  plants,  it  is  well  to  have  if  possible  a 
fixed  code,  free  from  localisms  and  based  upon  pri- 
ority and  reason,  as  in  the  case  of  Latin  names. 
Such  a  code  is  established  by  Britton  and  Brown  in 
their  "Illustrated  Flora  of  the  Northern  United 
States,"  and  by  L.  H.  Bailey,  in  the  "Cyclopedia  of 
American  Horticulture,"  etc.,  in  adding  the  most 
tangible  English  name  to  every  plant  possessing  one, 


SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS  131 

and  often  giving  the  many  local  titles,  in  parenthesis 
as  it  were,  to  help  the  unlearned  to  establish  flower 
identity.  Yet  when  a  common  name,  spicy  with 
the  odor  of  the  new  western  world,  is  given  to  a 
plant,  I  think  we  should  keep  it,  in  spite  of  Lin- 
naean  or  pre-Linnaean  nomenclature,  and  call  our 
little  group  of  inflated  pouched  Orchids,  Moccasin 
Flowers,  instead  of  Ladies'  Slippers,  as  Britton 
does,  a  general  title  which  confuses  their  person- 
ality with  the  European  species. 

Ladies'  Slipper  is  not  a  word  in  keeping  with 
Hemlock  and  Beech  woods,  but  the  word  Moccasin 
throws  meaning  into  the  black  shadows  and  brings 
to  mind  the  stone  axe  and  flint  arrow-heads  found 
not  long  ago  on  the  edge  of  a  newly -plowed  field, 
that  was  but  recently  a  piece  of  these  same  woods. 

"With  careless  joy  we  thread  the  woodland  way 

And  reach  her  broad  domain. 
Thro*  sense  of  strength  and  beauty  free  as  air, 

We  feel  our  savage  kin: 
And  thus  alone,  with  conscious  meaning,  wear 

The  Indian's  Moccasin." 

We  stopped  at  a  point  where  a  pair  of  Chestnut 
stumps  indicate  the  entrance  to  a  wood  road  whose 
guardian  gate-posts  and  rails  now  lie  among  the 
Ferns,  keeping  shape  until  touched,  and  then  sepa- 


132 


SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS 


rating   into    an   intangible    powder,    half   dust,    half 
wood -mold. 

On  this  bank,  peeping  incautiously  from  be- 
tween Bellworts  and  the  black  stalks  of  a  little 
forest  of  damp  and  only  half -opened  fronds  of 
Maidenhair  Ferns,  was  a  single  Moccasin  Flower 
of  unusual  size  and  height,  its  pouch 
of  an  almost  crimson  hue. 

It    stood    like    an    outpost,    com- 
manding   a  view    both   up   and   down 
the  shady  road.     I  straightway  picked 
it,    carefully   wrapped    its    stem    and 
leaves  in    damp    moss,   and    hid    it  in 
the  depths  of  the  chaise -top; 
for,  thought  I,  if,  to-morrow 
being   Saturday,    any    of    the 
people  coming  down  from  the 
back  country 
spy  this   flower, 
somebody    will 
surely   put    two 
and    two    together, 
follow  the  trail  into 
the    woods  ,     and 
make    the   whole 
colony    prisoners.     And 


SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS  133 

among  all  our  native  Orchids  this  Pink  Moccasin 
Flower  is  the  most  hopeless  to  transplant,  as  away 
from  its  haunt  in  a  year  or  two  at  most  it  pines 
away,  appearing  to  find  some  unknown  quality  in 
its  natal  soil  with  which  it  cannot  be  supplied. 

Within  the  wood  edge  pairs  of  leaves  and  single 
flowers  soon  became  more  frequent,  but  these  sank 
to  insignificance  when  I  came  in  sight  of  the 
first  tree  bowl.  There  the  Moccasins  were  hold- 
ing a  woodland  flower  market  of  their  own,  peep- 
ing over  each  other's  shoulders,  crowding  the  edges 
of  the  leafy  hollow,  straying  down  the  sides  and 
clustering  in  the  bottom,  facing  this  way  and 
that,  wearing  every  shade  of  color  from  flesh -white 
through  pink  to  a  deep,  veiny  purple,  and  all  nod- 
ding and  swaying  as  they  were  continually  jostled 
by  the  eager  bees  who  came  to  make  their  pur- 
chases of  pollen  and  nectar. 

Notwithstanding  the  great  attraction  that  a  Pink 
Moccasin  Flower  in  the  hand  offers  us  from  its 
oddity,  it  is  certainly  much  more  beautiful  in  its 
haunts.  There  the  paler  flowers  counteract  the 
somewhat  veiny  quality  of  the  deeper,  and  the  soft 
browns  of  the  Hemlock -strewn  ground  act  as  a 
setting  to  the  whole,  together  with  the  surrounding 
air  of  mystery  making  it  one  of  the  half  dozen  New 


134  SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS 

England  Orchids  for  which  true  landscape  value 
may  be  claimed. 

Hereabout  it  is  the  earliest  comer  of  the  tribe. 
Oh,  no!  I  am  forgetting  that  there  is  one  of 
another  household  still  earlier,  the  Showy  Orchis, 
which  pierces  the  mold  with  its  lily-like  leaves  in 
late  April  or  early  May,  in  company  with  Wake 
Robin,  Bloodroot,  Anemones,  and  Yellow  Violets. 
Even  Time  o'  Year  does  not  know  its  haunt  in 
the  deep  woods  beyond  Lonetown  on  the  Ridgefield 
road,  where  I  cherish  a  few  plants  of  it,  so  rare  in 
this  region,  by  letting  them  alone  in  the  hope  that 
they  will  increase  and  that  the  seed  may  be  borne 
to  neighboring  woods. 

This  Orchis  is  most  precise  in  its  equipments, 
and  when  in  its  first  perfection  of  bloom,  it  seems 
like  an  artificial  plant  of  wax  from  its  broad  leaves, 
sometimes  six  inches  in  length  and  damp  to  the 
touch,  to  the  tip  of  its  spike  of  half  a  dozen 
spurred,  shaded  purple  flowers  with  broad  white 
or  violet  lips.  Where  it  is  common,  it  often 
gathers  in  crowds  like  the  Moccasin  Flowers  or 
Fringed  Orchises,  but  with  the  few  rare  plants 
of  my  discovering,  each  kept  its  distance  from 
the  other,  as  prim  as  children  made  ready  for  a 
party,  who  sit  perched  on  chair  edges  in  con- 


SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS  135 

strained  attitudes  to  keep  finery  untumbled  until 
the  moment  for  departure  comes. 

In  common  with  many  of  the  tribe  the  Showy 
Orchis  has,  on  opening,  a  delicate  earthy  fragrance 
that  turns  to  a  decided  muskiness  after  the  fer- 
tilization of  the  flower;  a  perfume  inseparable  from 
leaf -mold  blossoms  to  whatever  tribe  they  may  be- 
long. One  quality  it  lacks,  and  that  is  gracefulness. 
If  its  flower -stem  grew  longer  before  the  buds 
opened,  so  as  to  raise  them  well  above  the  leaves 
and  give  the  wind  a  chance  to  sway  and  bend 
them,  the  primness  would  vanish,  and  the  Showy 
Orchis  be  captivating  indeed.  At  present  it  reminds 
one  of  a  lovely  woman  with  so  short  a  neck  that 
she  cannot  turn  her  head  ! 

Another  Moccasin  Flower,  a  taller  cousin  of  the 
Pink,  has  sent  a  few  venturesome  pioneers  over  the 
Hemlock  ridge  to  test  the  climate  and  soil  on  the 
coast  side  of  it,  for  this  family  needs  bracing  air 
and  usually  keeps  well  away  from  salt  water  in- 
fluences. 

The  Yellow  Moccasin,  or,  as  the  French  call  it, 
Le  Soulier  de  Notre  Dame,  comes  in  flower  as  the 
Showy  Orchis  passes,  and  precedes  the  exquisitely 
painted  Showy  Moccasin  Flowers,  whose  splendid 
rose -and -white  blossoms,  often  two  on  a  stem, 


136  SOME     HUMBLE     ORCHIDS 

seek  high  places  and  are  seldom  found  in  abun- 
dance south  of  Maine,  New  Hampshire  and  Ver- 
mont. It  is  well  called  Regina,  for  it  is  Queen  of 
a  princely  family. 

The  Yellow  Moccasin  is  a  striking  flower  of 
the  highshaded  woodland  landscape.  The  uncleft 
shoe  itself  is  of  a  clear  smooth  yellow,  veined  with 
purple ;  the  other  two  purplish  petals  hang  as 
twisted  strings,  with  a  hood-like  sepal  arching  be- 
tween. The  flowers,  singly  or  often  in  pairs,  are 
raised  upon  a  stout,  leafy  stalk  a  foot  or  two  above 
the  ground,  clearing  the  more  woody  undergrowth 
which  serves  as  a  background  to  deepen  their  color. 

How  the  eye  loves  to  linger  upon  yellow  flow- 
ers! Of  the  three  primary  colors,  yellow  always 
seems  to  me  the  most  harmonious  under  all  condi- 
tions, from  the  first  Marsh  Marigold  to  the  last 
brave  wand  of  Goldenrod.  Even  after  hard  frosts, 
the  same  cheerful  color  wraps  the  low  thickets 
wherever  Witch  Hazel  blossoms,  giving  the  land- 
scape, through  this  last  flower  of  the  season,  a 
forecast  of  the  Willow  tints  of  early  Spring. 

Roughly  speaking,  without  attempting  a  census, 
it  seems  to  me  that  taking  the  year  through,  the 
majority  of  landscape  flowers  are  yellow.  At  least, 
such  species  as  wear  this  color  grow  in  greater 


SOME    HUMBLE     ORCHIDS  137 

abundance  than  those  of  other  hues.  And  if  the 
strange  yet  plausible  theory  of  Grant  Allen  be 
true,  that  all  flowers  were  originally  yellow,  but 
that  in  the  processes  of  evolution  they  have  experi- 
mented with  other  colors  only  to  work  back  again 
to  the  original  hue,  it  is  easy  to  account  for  the 
plentifulness  of  this  color. 

In  May  and  early  June,  when  the  tardiest  Ferns 
have  unfolded    and  yielded    their 
winter   woolens   to    yellow   war- 
blers and  humming- 
birds for  nest -linings, 
and  the  Beech 
leaves    have 
freed    their     hands 
from  their  furry  mit- 
tens, another  Orchid 
appears  in  the  Hem- 
locks,    in    Time    o' 
Year's  woods,  and  in 
the  woodland    strips 
near  the  shore  where 
the    smooth    shining    leaves 
of    the    Twayblade     attract    the    eye 
even  before  it    becomes    aware  of  the 


138 


SOME    HUMBLE     ORCHIDS 


spikes  of  purplish,  green -winged,  broad -lipped  flowers 
that  suggest  the  form  of  many  a  greenhouse  Orchid. 
The  Great  or  Lily -leaved  Tway- 
blade  is  by  far  the  more  striking  of  the 
two,  and  when  a  dozen  plants  grow 
in  a  circle  they  are  of  distinct  landscape 
value.  This  Twayblade  grows  from  a 
bulb,  and  the  bulbs  are  usually  found 
in  pairs,  one  bearing  the  leaves  and 
flower-stalk,  the  sec- 
ond either  not  fully  de- 
veloped or  else  having  a  pair  of 
smaller  leaves,  but  not  yielding 
flowers  until  the  second  year. 
The  leaves,  though  primarily  of 
an  unctuous  sap-green  color,  are 
often,  perhaps  through  prema- 
ture ripeness,  streaked  with  yel- 
lows, purples  and  other  Autumn -leaf -hues,  which 
add  greatly  to  the  beauty  of  the  plant,  though  if 
they  were  so  pictured,  the  rigid  botanist  would 
declare  the  colors  unauthorized.  All  of  which  proves 
that  the  plant  seen  in  the  landscape,  like  the  liv- 
ing bird  in  the  tree,  is  often  plus  some  charming 
quality  not  accorded  it  by  the  text -books. 

The  smaller  Twayblade,  or  Fen  Orchis,  is  quite 


SOME     HUMBLE    ORCHIDS  139 

inconspicuous  as  to  its  flowers,  which  are  more 
wholly  greenish  and  are  borne  only  four  or  five  on 
a  stem.  Its  oval  leaves,  too,  are  usually  smaller. 
Though  not  generally  common,  when  found  it  is 
usually  in  large  colonies,  so  that  at  a  little  dis- 
tance the  ground  seems  paved  with  the  shining 
leaves  that  remind  one  of  the  Maianthemum  or 
Small  False  Solomon's  Seal  of  May  woods. 

Both  of  the  Twayblades  flourish  equally  well  in 
dry  or  springy  woods.  In  fact,  I  have  found  them 
the  two  sturdiest  and  most  constant  members  of  the 
race,  for  they  will  endure  transplanting  and  adapt 
themselves  to  new  conditions  very  readily,  if  the 
soil  is  in  any  way  suited  to  their  needs.  A  few 
years  ago  I  discovered  a  mixed  colony  blooming 
bravely  in  the  hard,  blackened  soil  of  a  bit  of 
cleared  woodland  from  which  the  stumps  had  been 
burned  and  where  the  plow  was  already  at  the 
work  of  turning  it  into  a  field.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances even  Time  o'  Year  could  not  object  to 
the  taking  away  of  plants  when  their  haunt  had 
literally  vanished  from  around  them,  so  I  rescued 
these  Twayblades  and  put  them  into  a  wild,  shady 
part  of  the  home  acres.  They  not  only  lived,  but 
have  spread,  new  plants  appearing  here  and  there 
at  a  wide  distance  from  their  parents,  showing 


I4O  SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS 

that  the  insects  necessary  for  their  fertilization 
have  found  them  out  in  their  new  home. 

Except  when  we  search  for  the  Rattlesnake 
Plantain  of  late  Summer,  the  Orchid  path  now 
leads  altogether  through  open  places, — springy 
pastures,  bogs  and  meadows,  that  were  long  ago 
redeemed  from  the  bog  condition  but  which  are 
deep  with  the  black  soil  and  firmly -rooted  growths 
of  other  days. 

Farther  north  in  the  Litchfield  country,  the 
pink -purple  Arethusa  may  be  discovered  making 
rosy  patches  in  the  open  Cranberry  swamps  of  early 
June,  if  you  have  the  patience,  clear  eye  and  steady 
footing  necessary  to  penetrate  her  haunts;  for,  like 
Calypso,  these  flowers,  with  nymphs  for  sponsors, 
are  furtive  and  elusive,  even  where  they  gather  in 
considerable  numbers. 

In  middle  June  the  Rose  Pogonia  or  Snake - 
mouth,  bearing  a  strong  resemblance  to  Arethusa 
in  shape  and  color,  though  a  smaller  flower,  is 
found  in  the  grassy  bog  meadows  from  Wakeman's 
Island  all  up  along  the  waterways  quite  through 
Lonetown.  It  does  not  grow  in  water,  but  among 
tufted  grasses  where  threading  springs  that  ooze 
up,  drop  by  drop,  keep  its  roots  moist,  —  the  haunt 
beloved  by  the  Blue  Fringed  Gentian  of  Autumn. 


SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS  141 

When  you  see  the  weedy -looking  sprays  of  Wild 
Forget-me-not,  then  go  slowly  and  you  will  surely 
find  grass  clumps  set  thick  with  the  slender,  nar- 
row-leaved stems,  each  holding  one,  or  perhaps 
two,  rosy  nodding  flowers,  the  flat  lip  fringed  and 
crested.  If  they  are  newly  opened  and  the  wind 
is  blowing  over  them,  a  whiff  of  delicate  fragrance 
will  reach  you  before  close  contact  reveals  the 
whole  strength  of  their  perfume  that  is  suggestive 
of  Parma  Violets.  As  you  stand  quite  still,  holding 
a  blossom  against  your  face,  while  you  search  about 
with  your  eyes,  you  will  perhaps  discover  a  trail  of 
pink  all  across  the  meadow  touching  the  brushy 
edge  of  the  bog  woods,  where  a  veery  is  rather 
calling  you  to  him  than  warning  you  away  by 
his  shrill  alarm -note,  whew  —  whe-ew!  and  where, 
in  anxious  concealment,  a  low -nesting  night 
heron,  the  last  of  a  once  clamorous  tree -top 
colony,  is  waiting  for  your  departure  to  come  out, 
driven  by  necessity  to  openly  hunt  frogs  for  his 
greedy  brood. 

Small  as  this  Pogonia  is,  it  adds  a  rosy  color, 
and  becomes  a  feature  in  the  landscape  of  the  rank 
marsh  meadows  of  June. 

Occasionally  flowering  with  Pogonia,  but  usually 
later,  its  blooming  season  lasting  from  late  June 


142 


SOME     HUMBLE     ORCHIDS 


CALOPdcON 


to  middle  July,  comes  the  Grass  Pink  or  Calopogon 
of  Gray  and  the  earlier  botanists.  Its  first  bloom- 
ing is  dated  variously  in  my  outdoor  journals  from 
June  19  in  1890  to  June  28  in  1900,  but  as  there  are 
often  ten  or  a  dozen  florets  on  a  single  stem,  in 
moderate  weather  two  weeks  may  pass  between 
the  opening  of  the  lowest  flower  to  the  fading  of 
the  topmost  on  the  scape. 

The  name  of  Grass   Pink   is  decidedly  in- 
appropriate   for    it,    and    suggestive  of    a  low- 
growing    plant    like    the    Creeping 
Phlox,    which    is    also    called    by 
the  same    name  locally.      Calopo- 
gon, from*  the   Greek  signify- 
ing beautiful  beard,  in  reference 
to  its  fringed  lip,   is   far  more 
r  suitable. 

J        Here  and  there  we  find  it 
1  j      following  in  the  wake  of  Po  - 
gonia  ;   its  slender  stalks,  a  foot  or 
two  in  height,  with   long,  grass - 
like   leaves,   bearing   the    flowers   well 
above  the  grass  and  low  growths,   to 
rest  against  a  background  of  tall  Cin- 
namon   and    Royal   Ferns    or   Brakes. 
To    find    Calopogon    playing    its    part 


SOME     HUMBLE    ORCHIDS  143 

broadly  in  the  landscape,  we  must  go  down  toward 
the  Sea  Gardens,  where  Cat -tail  Flags  and  the 
coarse  leaves  of  the  half -grown  Rose  Mallow  mark 
the  tide  channels. 

One  hazy  day  in  the  first  week  of  July,  Flower 
Hat  and  I  went  to  the  Sea  Gardens  together, 
I  for  the  annual  festival  of  Calopogon,  she  skep- 
tically, in  order  to  be  convinced  that  within  half 
a  mile  of  the  village  Orchids  could  be  found  in 
such  quantities  as  to  give  their  purplish  color  to 
an  acre  of  wild  growth.  Because  Nell  always 
objects  to  standing  in  the  middle  of  a  sandy  road 
with  nothing  to  investigate  or  nibble,  and  as  the 
meadow  footing  was  too  treacherous  for  her  to 
cross,  we  went  a-wheel.  I  prefer  walking  on  a 
flower  hunt,  but  Flower  Hat  considered  it  too 
slow.  That  day,  however,  she  learned  that  it  is 
quicker  to  walk  all  the  way  than  to  ride  part  way 
and  carry  your  bicycle  "'cross  lots"  the  other  half; 
for  no  real  flower- hunter,  by  any  chance,  ever 
comes  out  of  a  meadow  or  bit  of  wood  by  the  way 
he  or  she  enters,  or  goes  and  returns  on  the  same 
side  of  a  stream,  if  it  be  crossable. 

The  meadow,  or,  rather,  the  open  common,  for 
nothing  is  fenced  there,  on  each  side  of  the  road 
was  white  with  the  flat  flower -clusters  of  Purple- 


144  SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS 

stemmed  Angelica,  topping  stout  stalks  sometimes 
six  feet  in  height,  and  of  the  same  general  type 
of  growth  as  Wild  Carrot,  but  more  vigorous  and 
rigid  throughout  and  with  less  compounded  leaves. 
In  pushing  between  these  plants,  a  strong  aromatic 
odor  follows  the  bruising  of  even  a  single  leaf. 
Long  wands  of  Colic -root,  rising  from  rosettes  of 
lily-veined  leaves,  waved  their  mealy  white,  bell- 
shaped  blossoms  above  masses  of  Brakes,  dwarf 
Wild  Roses,  and  Purple  Milkwort,  while  the  Elder 
Flowers  in  the  tangled  background  of  Silver  Birches 
and  Wild  Crabs  repeated  in  shrub  form  the  color 
of  the  Angelica. 

We  stood  upon  a  long  mound,  that  was  the 
relic  of  a  dyke  thrown  up  years  ago  to  keep  the 
high  tides,  which  sometimes  ventured  across  the 
beach -crest  and  down  the  road,  from  drowning 
out  the  meadows,  and  looked  across  the  expanse 
unbroken  on  either  side  for  a  mile  or  so,  save  for 
a  few  groups  of  Oaks  that  made  dark  islands  in 
an  inland  sea  of  summer  green.  The  sun  came 
out,  and  Flower  Hat  blinked  as  she  vainly  tried  to 
make  the  coquettish  open-work  brim  of  her  head- 
gear shield  her  eyes;  and  then,  humbly  accepting 
a  huge  leaf  of  Cow  Parsnip  for  a  parasol,  again 
scanned  the  landscape. 


' 


SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS  145 

"Do  you  see  any  Orchids?"  she  asked,  after  a 
moment  or  two.  "I  Jm  sure  I  don't.  Everything 
is  big  and  common  and  all  huddled  together  in  an 
overgrown  mess.  I  like  the  woods  and  runaway 
garden  things  much  better.  If  you  find  one  plant 
at  a  time  you  can  keep  your  presence  of  mind. 
To  make  anything  of  this  jumble  of  hundreds  of 
everything  is  like  trying  to  play  an  unfamiliar  page 
from  Tristan  on  a  strange  piano  with  a  new  maestro 
standing  behind  taking  your  musical  measure." 

I  laughed,  and  merely  pointed  to  a  clump  of 
Cinnamon  Ferns  a  dozen  feet  before  us. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Flower  Hat,  dropping  the 
Parsnip  leaf  and  starting  forward. 

About  these  Ferns  the  Calopogons  had  gath- 
ered in  a  sort  of  bow-knot,  and  then  wandered  off 
in  an  erratic  course  across  the  open,  embroidering 
the  green  with  cross  stitches  and  fillets  of  a  color 
neither  purple  nor  pink. 

Flower  Hat  gathered  a  handful  of  the  flower  - 
spikes  —  there  were  so  many  that  any  moderate 
picking  would  not  destroy  the  effectiveness  of  the 
picture — and  suggested  that  we  should  go  over  into 
the  shade  to  look  at  them. 

"Dainty  from  tip  to  toe!"  she  exclaimed,  as 
she  held  up  a  flower -stalk  with  many  triangular 

J 


146  SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS 

buds  still  tight  and  trim  at  the  top,  while  two  or 
three  freshly  opened  flowers  at  the  bottom  showed 
the  broad -winged  lip  exquisitely  crested  and  bearded 
with  orange -yellow  and  deep  pink  hairs. 

"How  could  you  see  such  a  delicate  tracery  of 
color  amid  all  that  barbaric  mass  of  gold  and  green 
that  takes  twenty  tints  in  the  bright  sunlight?" 
she  asked. 

"Partly  by  a  practised  eye,  partly  by  intuition, 
partly  by  life -long  knowledge  of  the  component 
parts  of  these  early  July  meadows,"  I  said.  "How 
do  you,  by  glancing  at  a  page  of  music,  trace  out 
a  faintly  suggested  theme  amid  a  thicket  of  other 
notes?  Each  to  his  craft,  that  is  all." 

"Why!"  she  cried  presently,  "these  flowers  are 
set  on  the  stalk  somehow  upside  down!  What 
was  a  lip  in  Twayblade  is  a  lid." 

As  I  was  about  to  explain  the  lack  of  the  usual 
twist  in  the  future  seed-vessel  that  made  Calopo- 
gon  wear  its  chin  on  its  forehead,  contrary  to 
family  rules,  a  burst  of  bird  music  from  a  Crab 
tree  overhead  made  us  exchange  signals  of  caution, 
and  pause  with  bated  breath. 

Robin,  grosbeak,  purple  finch?  What  bird, 
keeping  the  spring  ecstacy  until  midsummer,  was 
pouring  forth  such  song?  He  was  a  ventriloquist 


SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS  147 

also,  for  the  notes  appeared  to  come  from  two 
parts  of  the  tree  at  once.  Instantly  Flower  Hat 
was  on  the  alert,  her  sensitive  ear  rejoicing  in  the 
melody.  In  spite  of  the  briars  which  enviously 
clutched  at  her  rose  garland  and  ribbons,  she  leaned 
gradually  backward,  until  her  head  almost  touched 
the  ground,  and  peered  up  into  the  tree. 

Meanwhile  I,  by  stretching  the  other  way,  dis- 
covered the  singer,  or,  rather,  singers — for  there 
were  two  of  them  —  splendid  orchard  orioles,  brave 
in  chestnut -and -black  suits.  They  were  first  sing- 
ing at  each  other  and  then  swaying  sidewise  to- 
ward some  unseen  object,  going  through  the  most 
remarkable  gestures,  opening  and  closing  their  wings 
and  using  them  like  arms,  with  all  the  impressive 
agony  of  tenors  of  the  opera.  Suddenly  they 
stopped,  gave  a  few  scolding  notes,  launched  at 
each  other  savagely,  then  flew  to  some  tall  black- 
berry canes  where  we  could  watch  them  easily,  and 
striking  effective  attitudes,  recommenced  their  song 
with  frantic  vigor. 

"What  can  all  this  be  about?"  Flower  Hat 
whispered. 

"  Cbercbez  la  femmef"  I  answered,  pointing  to 
an  Elder  Bush. 

"It  is  too  late  in  the  season  for  courting,"  she 


148  SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS 

replied,  at  the  same  time  following  the  direction  of 
my  finger  with  her  eyes. 

"Infant,  it  is  never  too  late,  especially  if  your 
early  Spring  plans  have  come  to  grief.  Besides, 
I  'm  sure  by  the  frantic  hurry  that  those  two  birds 
are  in,  that  they  are  young  widowers  in  whose 
elated  breasts  'hope  is  triumphing  over  experi- 
ence.'" 

On  the  Elder  Bush  toward  which  Flower  Hat 
gazed,  perched  "la  femme,"  in  a  subdued  olive 
cloak  and  yellowish  petticoat.  She  scarcely  turned 
her  head,  yet  saw  all  that  was  passing,  and  when 
the  song  ended  in  a  pitched  battle  during  which 
feathers  flew,  she  joined — not  the  victor,  but  the 
vanquished,  where  he  went  to  plume  himself  in  a 
distant  Crab  tree! 

The  next  time  we  went  to  the  Sea  Gardens, 
it  was  the  last  week  in  the  same  month,  which 
had  been  a  time  of  such  dryness  that  we  could 
easily  drive  across  the  meadows.  Flower  Hat  was 
still  skeptical  about  Orchids. 

"Yellow  Fringed  Orchis,  do  you  say,  growing 
in  this  withering  heat?  If  you  had  said  that  they 
were  in  the  wet  meadows  by  Time  o'  Year's 
woods,  where  we  found  the  splended  purple  fringy 


SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS  149 

ones  last  week,  I  might  believe  you,  but  never 
here,"  she  averred. 

"Yes,  here,"  I  persisted.  "Orange  and  White 
Fringed  and  Ragged  Green  Orchis,  too,  with  its 
finely  cleft  cross -shaped  lip.  Shut  your  eyes,  and 
don't  open  them  until  I  say,  Now!" 

"Do  be  careful  not  to  drive  into  that  boggy 
pond  at  the  end  of  Meeker 's  ditch  in  your  en- 
thusiasm," she  answered,  closing  her  eyes  and 
grasping  my  arm  as  we  jolted  and  bumped  from 
the  road  across  a  gully  into  the  open  meadow. 

Beyond,  from  over  the  beach  crest  fringed  with 
fruit -laden  Wild  Plum  Bushes,  the  vibrating  heat 
rose  in  sheets  above  the  sand.  Angelica  was  still 
in  flower,  and  the  small,  bright,  pea-shaped  blos- 
soms of  Wild  Indigo  feathered  the  open  with  lemon 
yellow.  But  this  color  paled  before  the  waves  of 
color  varying  from  orange  to  salmon  that  closed 
around  the  wheels  of  the  chaise  after  we  had 
driven  eastward  for  a  couple  of  hundred  yards. 

"Now!"  I  said,  "look  and  see  an  Orchis  land- 
scape in  New  England!" 

For  the  first  and  only  time  in  my  recollection, 
Flower  Hat  was  speechless. 

Each  summer  two  acres  in  extent  are  literally 
overwhelmed  and  drenched  with  the  splendid  color 


150 


SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS 


of  this  barbaric  orange  flower.  Yet  its  haunt  has 
already  been  encroached  upon  by  the  onion -raiser 
and  small  farmer  who,  with  growing  intelligence, 
finds  the  deep  rich  soil  well  worth  redeeming, 
until,  I  fear,  another  half  dozen  years  will  see 
this  flower  driven  to  a  few  uncultivatable  borders. 
The  plant -stalk  itself  sometimes  grows  three  feet 
in  height,  with  lance -shaped  leaves  and  a  flower  - 
spike  of  often  thirty  florets  with 
beard -shaped,  fringed  lips  and 
long  spurs.  It  is  of  firm  growth, 
and  yet,  like  so  many  plants  of 
slightly  brackish  or  marshy  soil, 
loses  quality  when  picked,  often 
refusing  to  revive  in  water. 

Here  and  there  I  pointed  out 
to  Flower  Hat  a  spike  or  two 
of  the  White  Fringed  Orchis, 
which  looks  like  a  small  al- 
bino brother  of  the  Orange, 
and  also  a  few  stray  plants  of 
the  dull  green  Ragged  Orchis, 
with  a  cross -shaped  cleft  lip. 
This  last  has  a  weedy  look 
and  is  without  any  of  the 
dainty  fragility  of  the  Fringed 


SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS  151 

Orchises;   consequently  it  must  be  classed  with  the 
botanist's   flowers  of  purely  intellectual  interest. 

"  My  eyes  are  blind  with  color,"  said  Flower 
Hat,  at  the  end  of  fifteen  minutes.  "I  will  believe 
anything  you  tell  me  after  this,  and  I  'm  going 
to  buy  a  soft  felt  hat  with  a  brim  that  will  turn 
down  all  round  like  a  cowboy's!" 

Thus  was  her  conversion  completed,  though  she 
never  wholly  abandoned  flowery  hats;  and  for  a 
reward  I  took  her  for  our  next  outing  to  Time 
o'  Year's  wood  to  spend  the  day  with  Ferns,  and 
to  see,  as  she  begged,  "a  nice  cool  Orchid  in  a 
shady  place,  within  sound  of  running  water." 

When  August  comes,  the  reign  of  the  Orchid 
tribe  is  well-nigh  over,  and  from  this  month  on- 
ward it  is  represented  by  the  group  of  Ladies' 
Tresses,  the  slender  plants  of  wet  meadows  and 
grass -lands,  whose  narrow  leaves  give  them  at  a 
little  distance  the  appearance  of  some  odd  flower- 
ing grass  or  of  a  delicate  white  flax.  If,  however, 
you  pick  a  stalk,  round  which  the  florets  are  set 
spirally  so  that  the  spike  appears  to  be  twisted, 
you  will  find  the  tribal  likeness,  the  crystal  white 
texture,  and  the  delicate  earthy  fragrance. 


152  SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS 

Of  half  a  dozen  species,  two  grow  plentifully 
hereabout,  one  in  the  drier  grass,  one  in  the  deep 
bog  meadows,  loved  by  Pogonia.  The  first,  the 
Slender  Ladies'  Tresses,  a  fragile  little  plant  with 
two  plantain -like  ground  leaves,  and  a  slender  stalk 
a  foot  or  more  in  length,  around  the  top  of  which 
the  flowers  appear  to  be  wound,  like  garlands  about 
a  May -pole,  is  abundant  in  August  and  September. 
The  other,  called  Nodding  Ladies'  Tresses,  stronger 
of  growth  and  more  fragrant,  is  the  farewell  Orchid 
of  the  year,  having  Asters  for  its  companions;  and 
when  its  moist  haunts  are  sheltered,  it  often  lingers 
into  late  October,  in  company  with  Fringed  Gen- 
tians, and  the  fresh  growth  of  Meadow  Ferns 
that  springs  up  after  the  Summer  heat. 

There  is  a  boulder -scattered  ridge  that  rises 
from  Time  o'  Year's  river  to  the  next  range  of 
hills.  Between  these  boulders,  time  out  of  mind, 
great  trees  grew  that  have  fallen  into  decay  and 
been  replaced  by  another  and  yet  another  gener- 
ation, so  that  all  between  the  rocks  is  in  dark 
shadow,  and  deep  with  wood -mold.  The  granite 
fragments  are  cloaked  with  Mosses,  Polypodies, 
and  Liverworts,  while  the  rarer  Spleen  worts  cling 
to  where  the  dripping  rocks  interrupt  a  spring's 
course,  and  every  dead  stump  and  fallen  bough 


SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS 


153 


is   fantastically   trimmed   with    Lichens    and    fungus 
growths. 

This  ridge,  or  "the  mountain,"  as  the  hillside 
folk  call  it,  is  reached  by  the  Tree -bridge,  a 
Chestnut  trunk  hewn  level  on  one  side 
and  thrown  across  the  narrow  mouth  of 
the  ravine  through 
which  the  river  flows. 

The  first  impres- 
sion on  entering  the 
wood,  to  which  the 
bridge  is  the  only  pass 
across  the  river,  is 
that  it  is  the  realm 
of  Ferns  alone. 
Flower  Hat  dropped 
quickly  upon  the  near- 
est rock,  and  resting 
backward  on  one 
hand,  declared: 

"I  thought  the 
meadows  were  dazzling  enough,  but  here  I  posi- 
tively can  distinguish  nothing.  It  seems  like  surg- 
ing waves  of  green,  breaking  over  a  coast  of  green 
rocks,  with  green  spray  rising  in  the  air." 


SOME     HUMBLE     ORCHIDS 


"Look  where  your  hand  is  resting  among  the 
leaves,"  I  said. 

There  on  a  sloping  bit  between  two  rocks,  so 
steep  that  the  earth  could  not  have  lodged  except 
for  the  twigs  and  wood  debris,  that  made  a  pocket, 
nestled  rosettes  of  round  green  leaves  netted  with 
white  veins.  From  each  tuft  grew  a  shaft  ending 
in  a  cone-shaped  spike  of  small,  pouched  flowers, 
that  glistened  in  the  light  with  the  crystal  white- 
ness of  the  Indian  Pipe,  tinged  with  green  shadows. 
"There  is  the  nice  cool  Orchid  in 
a  shady  place  within  sound  of  running 


SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS  155 

water,  and  its  name  suits  its  haunt,"  I  added 
wickedly,  —  "Rattlesnake  Plantain,  from  the  mot- 
tlings  on  the  leaves,  their  habit  of  growth,  and 
the  reputed  cure  afforded  by  the  plant  for  the  bite 
of  the  reptile." 

"Are  rattlesnakes  ever  found  here?"  said  Flower 
Hat,  looking  anxiously  at  the  numerous  holes  be- 
neath the  rocks,  which  really  had  a  suggestive  ap- 
pearance. "It  is  exactly  the  sort  of  place  where 
that  young  school-teacher,  who  was  out  flower- 
hunting,  backed  into  a  den  of  the  reptiles,  and 
Elsie  Venner  stared  them  out  of  countenance  and 
rescued  him. —  No?  " 

"It  is  certainly  cool  here,"  she  continued,  "and 
the  river  sound  makes  it  seem  even  chilly.  But  I 
am  not  quite  reconciled  to  calling  such  a  pale  mite 
of  a  flower  an  Orchid.  I  cannot  rid  myself  of  the 
feeling  that  the  word  implies  something  magnificent 
in  itself,  or  rich  in  its  massed  coloring  like  the 
Calopogon  and  Orange  Fringed  Orchis  in  the  Sea 
Gardens.  The  Lily- leaved  Twayblade  made  a  pic- 
ture, but  there  is  surely  no  such  quality  to  this 
homely  flower." 

As  she  spoke,  her  eyes,  now  focused  to  the 
shade,  again  rested  on  the  mat  of  plants.  The 
light  was  concentrated  upon  them,  and  in  the 


156 


SOME    HUMBLE    ORCHIDS 


short  interval  they  had  seemingly  moved  into  the 
foreground,  quite  filling  it,  while  the  Ferns,  Mosses 
and  boulders,  retreating  up  the  slope  out  of  range, 
became  tributary,  merely  a  frame  to  enhance  the 
Orchid's  quaintness. 


VI 


POISONOUS    PLANTS 

OUCH  not,  taste  not "  is 
written  against  but  com- 
paratively few  plants  of  the 
United  States.  Among 
the  four  thousand  and  odd  species, 
either  natives,  introduced  weeds,  or 
garden  escapes,  growing  between 
Newfoundland,  the  southern  boundary 
of  Virginia,  the  Atlantic  Ocean  and 
the  region  of  the  Great  Plains,  not 
more  than  thirty  can  be  asserted  posi- 
tively to  contain  elements  of  danger  to  man  or  to 
beast,  from  either  the  tasting  or  handling. 

Small  as  the  list  of  the  condemned  is,  it  is 
none  the  less  important  that  it  should  be  made 
public,  and  each  name  stowed  away  carefully  in  the 
memory  with  the  other  danger  signals  of  existence. 
It  also  seems  very  strange  that  these  forbidden 
plants  have  not  been  presented  as  a  group,  the 
only  satisfactory  way  to  memorize  them,  in  any  of 
the  popular  botanies.  In  fact,  it  was  not  until 

'57 


158  POISONOUS    PLANTS 

three  years  ago  that  the  United  States  Department 
of  Agriculture,  itself  continually  reminded  of  the 
importance  of  the  matter  by  reports  of  the  real 
and  oftentimes  merely  alleged  cases  of  plant  poison- 
ing sent  to  it,  gathered  such  statistics  as  were 
provable,  and  through  the  medium  of  a  Farmers' 
Bulletin,  V.  R.  Chestnut's  concise  summary  of  the 
"Thirty  Poisonous  Plants  of  the  United  States" 
was  issued.  But  widely  as  the  pamphlet  was 
distributed,  it  has  failed  to  reach  many  of  the 
very  people  to  whom  it  would  be  of  the  greatest 
use, —  the  increasing  band  of  nature  lovers,  tak- 
ing the  wood  path  perhaps  for  the  first  time, 
to  find  bird,  flower,  and  fern  in  their  haunts, 
and  also  the  ardent  amateur  farmer,  both  male  and 
female. 

Flower  Hat  never  dreamed  of  evil,  when  one 
day  in  following  me  along  a  narrow  road  between 
wet  meadows  and  woods,  she  broke  off  a  branch 
from  a  harmless -looking  shrub  to  use  for  brushing 
away  the  gnats.  In  a  few  hours,  however,  her 
mischievous  gray  eyes  were  closed  tight,  her  face 
looked  as  if  it  had  been  in  collision  with  a  hive 
of  very  angry  bees,  and  Poison  Sumac  was  literally 
branded  in  her  memory.  Poison  Ivy,  with  its  hairy 
climbing  stem  and  compound  leaves,  growing  dis- 


POISONOUS    PLANTS  159 

tinctly  in  threes,  had  hitherto  been  the  only  plant 
that  said  "Hands  off!"  to  her. 

A  man  of  affairs,  also  the  maker  of  a  country 
home,  imbued  with  the  love  of  wild  nature  and 
the  desire  to  reestablish  the  plants  that  had  once 
lived  in  a  strip  of  lovely  river  woods  and  wild 
meadows  that  he  owned,  set  out  many  hundred 
plants  of  Mountain  Laurel  and  Wild  Rhododendron 
one  Autumn.  A  mild  day  early  the  next  Spring 
made  him  think  that  his  young  Jersey  cows  would 
enjoy  an  airing  outside  of  the  protected  winter 
stock -yard;  so  he  dropped  the  bars  between  the 
cultivated  and  the  wild.  The  cows  trooped  out 
eagerly  enough,  and  seized  the  evergreen  Laurels, 
the  only  green  sprigs  in  sight.  In  a  few  hours, 
my  friend,  as  an  agriculturist,  was  blaming  his 
thoughtlessness  and  regretting  the  despoiling  of 
his  shrubs.  That  night  the  fine  young  cows  were 
discovered  lying  on  their  stable  floor,  seemingly 
blind,  breathing  with  labor,  and  all  in  some  of 
the  various  stages  of  drowsiness  and  stupor  that 
precede  death  by  poison. 

Then  that  young  man,  after  he  had  returned 
from  a  four -mile  race  on  horseback  for  the  veteri- 
nary surgeon,  and  had  stayed  up  all  night  obeying 
his  peremptory  orders,  buried  his  best  cow  the  next 


160  POISONOUS    PLANTS 

day.  In  his  capacity  of  stock-breeder,  he  then 
vowed  that  he  would  learn  something  about  the 
poisonous  plants  of  his  own  country. 

Even  Time  o'  Year,  who  had  handled  the 
"Touch  Nots"  from  boyhood,  confessed  not  long 
since,  "  Nothin'  used  ter  poison  me,  and  now 
for  some  years  back  Ivy  and  Sumac  both  does, 
and  I  can't  walk  on  the  near  side  of  a  brush  heap 
where  Swamp  Sunflower  is  drying  without  sneez- 
ing and  coughing  fit  to  choke;"  showing  that  even 
he,  to  the  manor  born,  did  not  understand  the 
workings  of  these  acrid  plant  juices,  or  know  that 
to  be  once  immune  does  not  mean  always  to  be 
so,  for  in  middle  and  late  life  many  succumb  who 
were  invincible. 

As  it  happens,  nearly  all  of  these  plants  are  dis- 
tinctive and  easy  of  identification,  while  the  blos- 
soms and  foliage  of  many  place  them  among  the 
flowers  of  landscape  value.  To  clearly  memorize 
the  names  and  attributes  of  such  of  them  as  are 
likely  to  injure  either  ourselves  or  the  cattle  grazing 
about  our  homes,  it  is  best  to  divide  them  in  two 
groups:  the  tribes  of  Touch  Not  and  Taste  Not. 

First,  let  it  be  distinctly  understood  that  those 
plants  are  excluded  from  the  list  from  which  poi- 
sonous or  narcotic  drugs  are  distilled,  but  which,  in 


POISONOUS    PLANTS  l6l 

themselves,  are  not  directly  poisonous  unless  con- 
sumed in  such  large  quantities  that  the  taking  of 
them  could  not  be  regarded  as  accidental.  Prob- 
ably the  greatest  amount  of  suffering  comes  to  the 
novice  in  field  lore  from  the  first  of  the  groups. 
The  second  class  is  fatal  to  open-mouthed  children 
whose  chief  test  of  anything  is  by  taste,  and  also 
to  the  "stranger  within  our  gates,"  who  is  constantly 
eating  unknown  roots,  berries,  or  mushrooms  from 
a  fancied  resemblance  to  some  edible  species  of  his 
own  country.  The  Taste  Nots  are  also  espe- 
cially dangerous  to  the  cattle -raiser  of  the  Great 
Plains,  who,  in  the  poisonous  plants  constantly 
found  in  grazing  lands,  has  presented  to  him  many 
knotty  problems. 

THE    TRIBE    OF    "TOUCH    NOT" 

We  associate  the  word  Sumac  with  rocky  hill- 
sides covered  by  abruptly  branching  shrubs  varying  in 
height  from  dwarf  bushes  to  small  trees,  that  wear 
in  Summer  either  shiny  or  velvety  compound  green 
leaves  of  many  leaflets,  and  thick  pyramids  of  yel- 
lowish green  flowers,  held  erect  at  the  ends  of 
branches.  In  Autumn  berry  and  leaf  rival  each 
other  in  an  intensity  of  crimson  color.  Yet  three 


POISONOUS    PLANTS 


of  the  nomad  tribe  of  Touch  Not 
are  harbored  by  this  family,  and 
bring  unmerited  disgrace  upon  the 
heads  of  innocent  brethren.  Poison 
Ivy,  Poison  Oak,  and  Poison  Sumac, 
or  Elder,  as  it  is  locally  called,  are  true 
Sumacs,  and  yet  possess  differences  which  should 
prevent  any  danger  of  confused  identity. 

The  Poison  Ivy  is  a  vine  entirely  too  common 
from  Canada  to  Florida,  and  from  the  Atlantic 
coast  to  Utah.  It  is  made  up  of  a  tough  woody 
stem,  thickly  bearded  with  hairy  air -roots  by  which 
it  climbs  over  rocks,  fences  and  to  the  tops  of 
high  trees,  with  leaves  composed  of  three  leaflets 
only,  and  wears  in  June  loose  clusters  of  dull 
greenish  flowers  growing  from  the  leaf -axils,  soon 
replaced  by  glassy,  opaque  berries  of  a  similar  hue. 
Thus  equipped,  it  pursues  its  career  of  mingled 
beauty  and  vice.  Being  myself  as  yet  immune  to 
its  poisoned  breath  and  touch,  I  cannot  but  dwell 
upon  its  beauty,  for  it  rivals  the  five-leaved  Vir- 


POISONOUS    PLANTS  163 

ginia  Creeper  in  being  one  of  the  two  most  truly 
decorative  vines  of  New  England,  making  up  what 
it  lacks  in  grace  of  growth  by  an  abrupt  vigor. 
It  covers  stone  heaps  and  tumble -down  walls, 
lends  new  foliage  to  half-dead  trees,  and  turns 
fence -posts  into  grotesque  plant  forms  ;  for  when 
it  reaches  the  top  of  a  support  and  can  climb  no 
further,  it  promptly  abandons  its  trailing  habits  and 
turns  into  a  shrub,  sticking  out  short  arms  in  every 
direction  until,  in  some  places,  one  may  find  miles 
of  rail  fences  with  every  post  decorated  by  this 
bushy  crown.  The  berries,  though  not  sufficiently 
attractive  to  be  dangerous  to  humanity,  are  eaten 


1 64  POISONOUS    PLANTS 

by  many  winter  birds,  and  the  seeds  so  scattered 
establish  the  vine  more  firmly  each  year,  for  the 
only  method  taken  by  townships  to  eradicate  the 
plague  is  to  cut  it  annually  with  a  stub  scythe 
where  it  grows  on  the  highways,  a  proceeding 
that  merely  increases  its  strength  of  root. 

When  Autumn  comes,  Poison  Ivy  chooses  its 
colors  of  mellow  yellows,  salmon  -  pink,  bronze 
and  crimson  with  discretion,  individual  vines  often 
keeping  distinct  tones,  some  always  turning  plain 
yellow,  and  others  varying  from  pink  to  crim- 
son without  a  single  yellow  tinge.  Alack,  how 
we  shall  miss  this  vine  in  the  landscape  when 
twentieth  century  magic  perhaps  shall  have  taught 
us  to  outwit  it! 

So  much  for  beauty.  Now  for  the  bad  side 
of  its  character.  Poison  Ivy  is  full  of  an  acrid 
oil,  which  does  not  easily  evaporate  upon  the  drying 
of  the  plant  that  generates  it,  and  which,  like 
other  oils,  does  not  dissolve  in  water.  Conse- 
quently when  it  is  liberated  from  the  leaf  tissue, — 
and  the  merest  touch  will  do  it — this  oil  at  once 
permeates  the  skin  of  its  victim  and  spreads  its 
irritation  on  the  surface,  and  not  through  the  blood 
as  was  once  supposed.  To  the  susceptible  a  tin- 
gling of  the  skin  may  be  the  first  warning  that 


POISONOUS    PLANTS  165 

they  have  even  been  in  the  vicinity  of  the  plant; 
for  to  absolutely  bruise  the  leaf  is  unnecessary  with 
those  easily  affected,  a  mere  whiff  of  the  oil, 
slightly  volatile  as  it  is,  being  sufficient  to  trans- 
mit the  poison.  The  tingling  sensation  is  soon 
succeeded  by  watery  blisters  set  deep  in  the  tough- 
ened cuticle.  These  blisters  are  often  thickest  be- 
tween the  fingers,  behind  the  ears,  or  in  folds  of 
skin  where  the  oil  remains  undisturbed. 

Of  course  it  is  best  to  avoid  Poison  Ivy,  but  it 
is  hardly  possible  so  to  do  if  one  desires  to  learn 
more  of  nature  than  can  be  seen  from  a  piazza  or 
from  a  neatly  graveled  garden  walk.  In  fact,  even 
there  this  vine  may  be  found  sneaking  its  way 
along  an  arbor,  where  a  myrtle  warbler,  seeking 
shelter  on  a  wintry  day,  has  dropped  the  seed. 
So,  after  having  done  your  best  to  shun  the  vine 
with  a  hairy,  woody  stem,  three  leaflets  and  greenish 
white  berries,  try  to  rid  the  skin  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible of  the  oil  when  once  it  has  touched  you.  If 
you  are  by  a  roadside  or  in  a  field,  take  a  handful 
of  dust  or  fresh  earth  and  rub  the  spot  of  contact 
thoroughly.  Water  will  avail  little  in  removing 
such  a  persistent  oil.  This  is  an  invention  of  my 
own  for  absorbing  the  oil,  that  I  use  with  great 
success  upon  my  field  companions,  Flower  Hat 


1 66  POISONOUS    PLANTS 

having  many  times  been  saved  by  it.  Then,  when 
you  can  reach  a  drugshop,  have  prepared  a  saturate 
solution  of  sugar  of  lead  in  seventy -five  parts  alco- 
hol (alcohol  cuts  oil)  to  twenty -five  parts  water. 
Be  sure  that  this  prescription  is  marked  poison 
and  ornamented  with  a  red  skull  and  cross-bones, 
before  you  take  a  clean  bit  of  cotton,  sop  your 
afflicted  spots  with  the  solution  and  put  the  rest 
away  for  future  use.  Sugar  of  lead  is  deadly  when 
taken  internally,  but  as  an  unfailing  remedy  for  the 
horrible  irritation  of  Ivy  poison  it  is  a  clear  but 
exceptional  case  of  two  wrongs  making  a  right. 

The  double  qualities  of  beauty  and  evil  possessed 
by  this  plant  were  truly  if  sentimentally  summed 
up  in  a  poem  written  by  a  North  countryman, 
who  once  worked  for  us,  his  mind  being  more 
ready  to  immortalize  weeds  in  legends  than  his 
fingers  to  eradicate  them  from  the  paths.  Not 
being  familiar  with  the  language  of  the  Sagas,  in 
which  the  verses  were  given  me,  I  asked  for  an 
interpretation.  The  Poet  willingly  dropped  his  hoe, 
clasped  his  hands,  and,  choking  with  the  emotional 
memory  of  his  recent  and  first  experience  in  poi- 
soning by  a  gorgeous  and  deceitful  vine  that  he 
had  plucked  and  brought  home  over  his  shoulder,  he 
began  in  a  whisper,  which  rapidly  arose  to  a  shriek : 


POISONOUS    PLANTS  167 

"Once  there  was  a  woman,  very  beautiful,  tall, 
slender  and  bending.  She  had  a  lovely  color  in  her 
face  and  wild  eyes  that  shot  fire  and  were  gray 
and  green  and  golden  at  one  time.  Her  robes 
wreathed  about  her  and  were  more  beautifully  gar- 
nished than  the  Spring  fields.  But  she  was  false! 
Then  for  her  punishment  she  was  turned  into  a 
vine,  wearing  in  its  season  the  colors  that  her  eyes 
had  flashed,  —  a  vine  so  beautiful  that  all  men 
desire  to  possess  it,  but  deadly  to  the  touch. 
Though  some  are  of  such  strength  and  good 
blood  that  they  at  first  may  handle  it,  yet  they 
know  not  when  their  hour  of  trouble  may  come!  " 

Of  the  other  two  Sumacs,  the  Poison  Oak,  or 
California  Poison  Sumac,  occupies  the  same  place 
in  the  west  as  the  Poison  Ivy  does  in  the  eastern 
part  of  the  country.  Its  leaves  are  thicker  and 
more  rounded,  but  its  manner  of  poisoning  as  well 
as  the  remedies  for  it  are  the  same.  The  third, 
the  Poison  Sumac,  though  not  having  found  its 
way  as  far  west  and  not  generally  as  common  as  the 
Poison  Ivy,  is  doubly  dangerous  because  it  is  less 
known  and  its  poison  is  even  more  intense,  often 
producing  the  symptoms  of  erysipelas.  This  plant, 
locally  known  as  Poison  Elder,  Poison  Ash  or  Poison 


i68 


POISONOUS    PLANTS 


Dogwoodr  is  found  sometimes  as  a  low  bush,  only  a 
few  feet  in  height,  sometimes  as  an  uneven  tree  of 
twenty  feet  or  more.  Its  leaves  are  compounded  of 
many  leaflets,  9-15,  like  those  of  other  Sumacs, 
though  these  leaflets  are  less  pointed  and  suggest 
those  of  a  young  Ash.  Also,  the  leaflets  do  not 
lie  flat  to  the  central  stalk,  but  are  keeled,  as  it 
were,  and  curve  up  in  a  winged  manner.  In 
the  early  season  the  leaf  stems 
and  middle  veins  are  a 
pale  pink;  this  is  an 
important  point  to 
note  when  the  fruit 
is  absent.  The  ber- 
ries of  the  Poison  Su  - 
mac  are  greenish 
white  and  hang  down  in  loose 
bunches  like  stunted  frost 
grapes.  The  berries  of  the 
harmless  Sumacs  are  red, 
and  held  erect  in  solid  pyr- 
amids. The  Poison  Sumac 
grows  invariably  in  damp,  if 
not  absolutely  marshy 
ground.  The  harmless  Sumacs  prefer  dry  and 
rocky  soil.  It  is  well  for  Nature  students  to 


POISONOUS    PLANTS  1 69 

search  out  this  shrub  and  identify  it  in  its  haunt, 
for  future  avoidance,  as  it  is  one  of  the  decorative 
bushes  of  Autumn  whose  leaves  work  sad  mis- 
chief through  being  gathered  to  decorate  houses 
and  churches,  or  for  pressing. 

Many  of  the  hillside  folk  call  it  Bush  Ash,  and 
deny  the  poisonous  qualities  which  they  have  never 
personally  experienced.  One  day  when  I  was  re- 
turning from  a  Lonetown  excursion  with  the  chaise 
full  of  the  glistening  leaves  of  the  Smooth  Sumac, 
a  "  berry  woman "  with  whom  I  had  often  had 
dealings  stopped  me  —  a  very  unusual  proceeding  — 
to  exclaim,  "You  '11  be  p'isoned  blind  with  that 
Shumac,  sure  as  yer  alive." 

I  explained  its  innocence  to  her, — reasons,  red 
berries  and  all, — and  warned  her  that  a  large  bundle 
of  branches  which  she  was  carrying  to  decorate  the 
school -house  for  a  harvest -home  supper,  was  chiefly 
composed  of  the  true  Poison  Sumac. 

No,  I  was  mistaken.  What  she  had  was  "just 
Bush  Ash."  She  'd  always  picked  it  when  she  was 
a  girl;  a  peddler  told  her  the  shiny  kind  was  poison, 
and  his  mother  was  an  herb  doctor,  and  so  he  knew. 
Why,  anybody  could  see  that  it  was  the  poison  that 
made  the  leaves  shine ;  it  all  lay  in  a  varnish  on  top ! 

She  proceeded  on  her  way,  but  two  weeks  after- 


170  POISONOUS    PLANTS 

ward  I  learned  from  Time  o'  Year  that  the  poor 
woman  had  nearly  died  of  Sumac  poisoning.  All 
of  which  proved  that  since  the  days  when  she 
had  touched  it  freely,  she  had  passed  into  middle 
life,  that  indefinite  toll-gate  on  the  road  which 
had  robbed  her  of  the  immunity  of  earlier  days. 

In  addition  to  these  three  Sumacs  there  are 
two  plants,  "garden  escapes,"  which  contain  both 
acrid,  milky  juice  and  berries  that  are  highly  poi- 
sonous. These  are  the  Caper  Spurge  and  its 
brother,  which  is  sold  in  catalogues  under  the 
name  of  "Snow  on  the  Mountain;"  both  are  re- 
lated to  the  Cypress  Spurge  of  old  gardens,  and 
resemble  it  in  the  shape  of  the  flowers.  The 
Caper  Spurge  has  small,  greenish  yellow  flowers 
followed  by  showy,  caperlike,  three -seeded  fruit. 
Snow  on  the  Mountain  is  an  annual  weed  of  the 
Plains.  Under  cultivation  it  grows  two  or  three 
feet  in  height,  its  lower  leaves  being  green,  oval, 
and  pointed,  while  the  upper,  clustering  around 
the  flowers,  are  distinctly  edged  with  white.  Its 
milky  juice  is  so  intensely  acrid  and  blisters  the 
skin  so  readily  that  Texan  stock -raisers  have  been 
known  to  use  it  for  branding  cattle  instead  of 
the  customary  hot  irons.  This  plant  should  be 
carefully  excluded  from  gardens,  and  dropped  from 


POISONOUS     PLANTS  IJI 

seedsmen's  catalogues,  for  I  have  seen  the  fingers 
of  little  children  terribly  scarred  from  picking  it. 
It  is  also  a  menace  to  bee-keepers,  for  a  little 
of  the  pollen  will  render  honey  uneatable. 

Several  of  the  Goldenrods  and  Ragweeds  have 
pollen  which,  when  inhaled,  has  an  irritating  effect 
upon  those  liable  to  hay  fever  and  catarrh  ;  and 
the  Swamp  Sunflower  of  our  waterways  has  earned 
its  common  title  of  Sneezeweed  from  causing,  by 
its  pollen  and  dried  blossoms,  an  irritation  so  mis- 
chievous as  to  make  it  akin  to  a  poison. 

Every  one  knows  this  cheerful,  Sunflower-like 
plant,  —  with  its  thick,  lance-shaped  leaves,  the 
flowers  in  a  tufted  center  surrounded  with  toothed, 
wide -ended  yellow  rays, — for  it  follows  the  water- 
ways from  Canada  to  the  Gulf,  and  finds  enough 
moisture  to  sustain  it  even  in  Arizona.  Cattle 
may  be  affected  by  eating  the  young  plants,  or  the 
flowers  dried  in  hay,  the  result  being  a  sort  of 
asthmatic  giddiness,  and  sometimes,  in  the  case  of 
young  animals,  death  from  convulsions. 


THE    TRIBE    OF    "TASTE    NOT" 

Those    plants   should    rank   as    most   important 
that    directly   threaten   the   life   of    man.       Among 


172  POISONOUS    PLANTS 

these  the  Death  Cup  and  Fly  Amanita,  Water 
and  Poison  Hemlock  will  stand  first,  second,  third 
and  fourth,  Jimson  Weed  fifth,  as  poisonous  plants 
that  are  eaten  from  their  resemblance  to  edible 
species  of  their  various  families,  and  which  there- 
fore are  more  to  be  feared  than  those  plants  eaten 
through  a  momentary  attraction  of  fruit,  or  from 
the  careless  habit  of  chewing  random  leaves  and 
twigs. 

The  Fly  Amanita  and  the  Death  Cup  (Ama- 
nita pballoides)  are  primarily  among  the  most  con- 
spicuous as  well  as  the  most  deadly  of  fungi.  The 
majority  of  the  family  are  fatally  poisonous,  and 
every  year  sees  the  list  lengthened  of  those  who 
have  died  from  eating  some  member  of  it. 

In  spite  of  Hamilton  Gibson's  delightful  book 
upon  "Edible  Fungi"  and  Professor  G.  F.  Atkin- 
son's recent  exhaustive  "Studies  of  American  Fungi, 
Mushrooms  Edible,  Poisonous,"  etc.,  I  would  cau- 
tion the  novice  to  content  himself  with  gathering 
the  common  Meadow  Mushroom  only.  This  is 
easy  to  place,  with  its  nutty  odor,  white  or  slightly 
smoky  top;  pink  to  brown  gills,  according  to  the 
freshness  of  the  plant,  and  a  stem  dwindling  just 
below  ground,  and  NEVER  set  in  a  cup- like  socket. 
I  should  advise  him  to  let  all  other  fungi  entirely 


POISONOUS    PLANTS  173 

alone,  no  matter  how  edible  some  species  may  be 
under  proper  conditions.  The  more  or  less  distinct 
cup -like  setting  to  the  stem  is  a  good  mark  of 
identification  to  the  fatal  Death  Cup,  for  the  nov- 
ice. Let  him  avoid  it. 

Fly  Amanita  is  the  most  picturesque  and  strik- 
ing of  our  earth -growing  fungi,  and  where  it  ap- 
pears in  profusion,  as  it  does  under  the  evergreens 
in  our  home  grounds  during  the  Autumn  months, 
it  is  a  plant  of  decided  landscape  value,  introducing 
gamboge,  orange,  and  even  vermilion  into  deep  shade 
which,  the  season  through,  knows  no  other  colors 
than  the  green  of  Ferns  and  Partridge  Vine,  with 
the  brown  of  leaf-mold. 

This  Amanita  is  stout  of  stem  and  cap.  I  gath- 
ered some  specimens  last  September  that  stood  a 
foot  high,  and  measured  fourteen  inches  across  the 
white  gilled  cap  which  varied  through  all  shades  of 
yellow  to  red  and  was  covered  with  corklike  warts. 
The  swelled,  scaly  base  of  the  stalk  does  not  take 
a  clearly  marked  cup -shape,  as  in  kindred  forms. 
Fortunately,  however,  there  is  no  chance  of  mis- 
taking this  gorgeous  creature  for  the  safe  and  Cin- 
derella-like Meadow  Mushroom.  The  plant  is  a 
deadly  poison,  whose  juices  are  used  in  Europe  as 
the  basis  of  fly  poisons,  and  when  eaten  by  man 


174  POISONOUS    PLANTS 

it  means  almost  certain  death  by  heart  paralysis. 
Cattle  are  also  affected  by  it,  and  it  is  unwise 
either  to  handle  the  plants  or  to  risk  inhaling  their 
fumes  while  fresh  or  the  spore -dust  when  dry.  I 
was  made  unpleasantly  aware  of  the  toxic  qualities 
of  Fly  Amanita  while  taking  the  accompanying 
photograph  at  close  range  on  a  damp  day,  and  thus 
spending  half  an  hour  or  so  in  company  of  a  double 
score  of  the  fungi. 

But  even  this  rank  Amanita  is  less  likely  to 
cause  trouble  than  its  smaller,  paler  kinsman  of  the 
distinctly  cupped  stem  —  the  Death  Cup.  This  has 
a  smooth,  satiny  top,  which  may  be  either  white, 
spotted,  or  tinted  yellow;  it  also  has  white  gills 
and  a  white  stem.  As  a  whole,  at  a  casual  glance, 
it  does  not  look  unlike  a  large  Meadow  Mushroom, 
and  for  this  reason  is  doubly  dangerous.  It  also 
sometimes  strays  from  its  proper  wood  haunts,  to 
lawns  and  meadow  edges.  Remember  the  fatal  cup 
at  the  root,  and  the  white  gills.  Remember  also 
that  a  mere  fragment  is  enough  to  kill  a  man,  and 
beware  of  it,  for  there  is  no  rank  taste  nor  odor 
to  give  warning,  and  the  poison  does  not  begin  to 
work  until  eight  or  nine  hours  after  it  has  been 
eaten.  Then  all  care  is  unavailing. 

Two  plants  of  the   Carrot   tribe  follow  in   their 


POISONOUS    PLANTS 


175 


turn,  the  Water  and  the  Poison 
Hemlock,  well  known  to  the 
ancients. 

The  Water  Hemlock  is  the 
commoner  of  the  two.  It  is  a 
smooth,  straight  herb,  and  has 
a  spindle-shaped,  perennial  root,  a 
hollow  stem,  much-divided  com- 
pound leaves,  and  flat  clusters  of 
white  flowers  of  the  Wild  Carrot 


176  POISONOUS    PLANTS 

and  Parsnip  type.  It  grows  in  wet  places,  and  is 
therefore  likely  to  be  eaten  by  children  who  are 
hunting  in  Spring  for  the  roots  of  Sweet  Cicely. 
In  the  United  States  alone  this  plant  destroys  many 
human  victims  annually,  besides  doing  untold  injury 
to  cattle  that  drink  from  pools  poisoned  by  its  de- 
caying roots. 

The  Poison  Hemlock  proper  has  finer  Parsley  - 
like  leaves  and  a  biennial  root;  its  stem  is  purplish 
and  spotted,  thus  tending  to  confuse  it  with  the 
Purple -stemmed  Angelica.  This  Hemlock  yields 
from  its  seeds  and  from  the  leaves  at  flowering 
time  an  alkaloid  poison  called  conine,  a  drug  well 
known  to  the  ancients,  and  which  furnished  the 
death  draught  of  Socrates.  The  dried  seeds  also 
cause  mischief,  as  they  are  sometimes  gathered  by 
mistake  for  Anise. 

The  fifth  plant,  Jimson  (Jamestown)  Weed,  or 
Stramonium,  belongs  to  the  Nightshade,  or,  as  it 
is  now  called,  the  Potato  family,  a  tribe  contain- 
ing plants  of  diverse  attributes  good  and  evil  —  the 
Tomato,  Potato,  Tobacco,  Henbane  and  all  the 
Nightshades — of  which  the  European  species  yielding 
Belladonna  is  the  most  deadly.  Common  Stramo- 
nium is  a  rank  plant  of  waste  places,  deserted  back 
gardens  and  ash  heaps,  and  therefore  has  many  local 


POISONOUS    PLANTS  177 

nicknames  —Thorn-apple,  from  its  prickly  seed- 
pods,  Stinkweed  and  Jamestown  Lily.  It  is  also 
the  "White  Man's  Plant"  of  the  Indians. 

Near  at  hand  Jimson  Weed  is  an  unlovely  herb 
four  or  five  feet  high,  with  coarse  leaves  and  heavy - 
scented  white,  five -ridged  flowers  of  the  tubular 
form  of  the  Morning -Glory.  At  a  distance  it  be- 
comes one  of  the  boldest  of  landscape  plants,  its 
great  white  blossoms  standing  out  with  startling 
effect  from  amid  the  dirt  and  confusion  of  its  sur- 
roundings. Children  sometimes  eat  the  seeds  or 
suck  the  sickishly  sweet  nectar,  and  cattle  are 
injured  by  the  leaves,  which  oftentimes  find 
their  way  into  fodder  and  hay. 

Bittersweet,  Wood,  or  Climb- 
ing  Nightshade   are  the  names 
given  to  a  woody  climber,  also 
belonging  to  the    Potato 
tribe.       This    vine,    seldom 
growing  more  than  eight  or 
ten  feet  in  length,  is  commonly 
seen  from  Massachusetts  west- 
ward to  Ohio,  among  the  tan- 
gled  shrubbery  that  follows 
brooks  and   ditches,   though   in 
the    Lonetown   region    I    have 


178 


POISONOUS    PLANTS 


often  found  it  trailing  over  stone  fences  in  com- 
paratively  dry  fields.  It  has  coarse,  thin  leaves  of  twc 
patterns  —  a  custom  of  many  herbs  and  trees,  from 
the  Convolvulus  to  the  Sassafras — the  lower  leaves 
being  of  a  strangely  divided  heart-shaped  form,  the 


upper  spear-like.  The  purple  flowers,  suggesting 
the  type  of  the  Potato  blossom,  are  followed  by 
loose  clusters  of  clear,  bright  red  berries,  which, 
though  of  a  bittersweet  flavor,  are  very  attractive  to 
children  and  are  poisonous  if  eaten  in  any  quantity. 
Black  Nightshade,  a  near  relative  of  this  climber, 
is  an  annual  herb  two  feet  high,  often  found  in  old 
gardens  and  in  cultivated  soil  that  has  been  neg- 
lected. It  has  ovate  leaves  with  waved  edges,  a 


POISONOUS    PLANTS 


179 


small  white  flower  of  the  typical  Nightshade  pat- 
tern, and  round,  black,  juicy  berries  that  cause 
cramps  and  other  unpleasantness  to  the  human 
consumer.  The  plant  itself  should  also  be  kept 
out  of  the  reach  of  the  smaller  animals,  such  as 
sheep  and  calves. 

A  curious  fact  concerning  some  cultivated  plants 
of  the  Potato  family  is  that,  while  certain  portions 
may  be  edible,  other  parts  of  the  same  plant  are 
poisonous.  Thus  the  tuberous  roots  of  Potatoes  are 
edible,  but  the  seed -pods,  looking  like  little  green 
Tomatoes,  are  injurious,  while  with  Tomatoes  it  is 
the  fruit -like  seed -pod  that  is  eaten. 

Pokeweed  is  another  rather  poisonous  plant, 
growing  almost  across  the  entire  continent  in  moist 
places  or  where  the  drainage  of  compost  and  refuse 
heaps  has  enriched  the 
ground.  It  is  also  locally 
called  Pigeon  Berry,  Garget, 
or  Red -ink  Plant. 


ISO  POISONOUS    PLANTS 

This  succulent  herb,  with  reddish  purple  stems, 
large  coarsely  veined  leaves  and  long  sprays  of  small 
white  flowers  which  droop  like  the  blossoms  of  the 
Choke  Cherry,  springs  from  a  tough,  perennial 
root  and  in  a  few  months  will  often  grow  to  a 
height  of  eight  feet.  As  the  season  advances  and  the 
flowers  are  followed  by  berries,  at  first  green,  then 
passing  through  red  to  a  purple -black,  Poke  weed 
gradually  leaves  the  procession  of  weeds,  and  devel- 
ops decided  picturesque  qualities,  filling  the  corners 
of  fields  and  pastures  with  its  richly -colored  groups, 
and  reaching  over  gray  stone  walls  and  old  fences 
to  dangle  its  fruit  by  the  roadside.  The  fresh 
shoots  of  this  plant  are  sometimes  cooked  by  coun- 
try folk  in  lieu  of  Asparagus.  Great  care,  however, 
is  necessary  in  the  preparation  thereof,  and  not  a 
fragment  of  the  root  must  be  used,  as  it  pos- 
sesses strong  medicinal  properties,  acting  as  a  vio- 
lent emetic,  causing  much  distress,  and  even  death, 
when  it  has  been  eaten  by  mistake  for  Artichoke 
or  Horse-radish.  Though  birds  eat  the  berries 
quite  freely,  they  are  believed  to  be  poisonous  to 
humanity. 

False  Hellebore,  the  swamp  plant  with  crumpled 
lily-like  leaves  and  green  flowers,  that  we  found 
growing  with  the  Skunk  Cabbage  and  Adder's 


POISONOUS    PLANTS  l8l 

Tongue  by  the  brook  in  early  Spring,  also  carries 
poison  in  its  berry,  leaf,  and  root.  It  is  harmful 
to  chickens,  horses,  cattle,  and  man,  certain  people 
being  especially  prone  to  gather  its  young  shoots 
and  roots  to  use  as  "greens"  in  Spring — a  time 
when  all  such  growths  are  difficult  to  identify  by 
the  untutored,  and  are  therefore  always  to  be 
avoided. 

The  pretty  purple -pink  Corncockle,  or  Rose 
Campion  of  old  rf^JKU^  gardens,  has  now 
become  a  noxious  cJb&J/WvJ  weed>  to  be  up- 
rooted wherever 
grain  is  grown. 
Though  the  whole 
plant  contains  an  irritant 
poison,  the  seed  does  the 
most  mischief  when  care- 
lessly mixed  with  wheat, 
ground  into  flour  or  min- 
gled in  any  quantity  with 
other  grains  or  with  fod- 
der. The  rough  black  seed- 
coverings  are  easily  detected, 
however,  and  wheat  or  rye 
seed  having  a  sprinkling  of 
them  should  invariably  be  rejected. 


1 82  POISONOUS    PLANTS 

Of  herbs,  shrubs  and  trees  that  affect  grazing 
cattle  more  or  less,  there  are  twelve  species,  all  of 
them  of  conspicuous  growth.  Among  these  are 
the  Dwarf,  Purple  and  Wyoming  Larkspurs  of  the 
middle  and  extreme  west,  the  first  wearing  blue  or 
white  flowers  in  Spring,  the  second  beautiful  deep 
blue  blossoms  in  Summer,  and  the  last,  particularly 
common  in  the  Montana  grazing  country,  showing 
a  single  wand  of  intensely  blue  flowers,  from  April 
to  July,  according  to  location. 

The  injury  done  to  stock  by  the  Woolly  and 
Stemless  Loco  Weeds  of  the  Great  Plains  has 
caused  immense  bounties  to  be  paid  for  their  ex- 
termination. Through  these  plants  horses,  more 
frequently  than  range  cattle,  suffer  from  what  is 
apparently  a  slow  wasting  disease,  ending  in  death, 
as  if  by  starvation.  A  similar  poison  is  contained  in 
the  closely  related  Rattlebox,  a  rough,  hairy  herb  of 
the  Pea  Family,  whose  small  yellow  flowers  bloom 
all  Summer,  followed  by  short,  black  pods  in  which 
the  seeds  can  be  heard  to  rattle.  The  range  of 
the  plant  is  westward,  from  the  Atlantic  seaboard, 
and  it  is  quite  common  in  sandy  and  dry  soil  here 
in  Connecticut. 

The  Heath  tribe  distributes  a  poison  particularly 
affecting  the  respiration,  in  Mountain  Laurel,  Small 


POISONOUS     PLANTS  183 

Laurel  or  Lambkill,  Rhododendron,  Staggerbush, 
and  Branch  Ivy  or  Calfkill.  Staggerbush  is  a  low 
shrub  growing  south  of  Connecticut,  with  thick 
leaves  and  handsome  clusters  of  white,  blueberry - 
shaped  flowers.  Branch  Ivy,  with  saw  -  toothed 
evergreen  leaves,  and  inconspicuous  white  flowers 
having  a  nauseating  odor,  is  unknown  here, 
and  is  only  troublesome  in  the  Alleghanies  be- 
tween southern  Georgia  and  West  Virginia. 

Lastly  comes  Black  Wlto  ctfe  fifty 
Cherry,  a  graceful  tree, 
that  has  stepped  out  of 
its  native  forest  in  the 
Middle  Atlantic  States 
to  saunter  along 
roadways,  following 
fences  across  lots  and 
quenching  its  thirsty 
roots  at  the  pasture 
springs.  In  May  and  June  it  waves  its  glossy  green 
leaves  and  fragrant  white  flower -sprays  on  every  side, 
in  early  Autumn  replacing  these  with  brilliant  foli- 
age and  bunches  of  pungent,  juicy  black  cherries. 

Yet  a  fatal  sort  of  beauty  has  Black  Cherry, 
for,  owing  to  that  very  quality  and  to  the  ex- 
cellence of  its  fruit  for  compounding  the  delect- 


1 84  POISONOUS    PLANTS 

able  cordial  called  Cherry  Bounce,  few  people 
dream  of  the  mischief  it  may  do  to  cattle,  until 
they  are  taught  by  at  least  one  fatal  experience. 

The  green  and  growing  leaves  and  branches  are 
harmless,  but  when  broken  by  the  wind,  as  often 
happens,  or  in  any  way  left  to  wither  in  a  place 
where  cattle  can  eat  them,  they  become  a  source 
of  danger.  When  cattle  eat  either  withered  leaves 
or  branches,  sickness  always  follows  and  frequently 
death,  from  paralysis  of  the  lungs  caused  by  the 
prussic  acid  in  the  tree.  This  same  acid  is  what 
gives  the  pleasant  and  harmless  flavor  to  the  fruit 
juice,  but  at  the  same  time,  if  the  pits  are  swal- 
lowed by  children  and  the  kernels  digested,  the  re- 
sult is  sometimes  fatal.  Birds  devour  these  berries  in 
quantities,  but,  as  can  plainly  be  seen,  they  digest 
the  pulp  alone  and  the  pit  is  passed  unchanged. 

So  much  for  the  poisonous  plants,  few  in  num- 
ber, easy  to  be  identified,  to  be  neither  touched  nor 
tasted,  but  visited  in  their  haunts.  While,  at  the 
safe  distance  that  knowledge  spreads  between  us 
and  them,  we  may  enjoy  the  better  part  of  their 
dual  natures  as,  blended  with  worthier  stuffs,  they 
weave  their  varied  patterns  and  hues  into  the  end- 
less garment  of  the  Magician. 


VII 


THE  FANTASIES 
OF  FERNS 

IN  the  old  flower  lan- 
guage, the  Fern  was  the 
symbol  of  sincerity.  In  the 
wood  language,  the  mystic 
speech  of  the  Magician,  the 
Fern  stands  for  silence.  Are 
not  these  interpretations  the  same? 
The  Fern  is  a  voiceless  sentinel 
of  the  silent  woodlands;  it  has  no 
flower  to  draw  to  it  the  hum  of 
insects.  Around  the  margins,  or 
following  the  veins  of  its  fronds, 
gather  the  intangible  spores  scarce 
deserving  the  name  of  seed  till, 
in  a  further  stage  of  development, 
they  generate  the  dual  forms  which 
mutually  perpetuate  the  race. 
185 


1 86  THE     FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 

The  Fern  does  not  appeal  directly  to  insect 
or  man  through  a  specialized  color,  or  perfume. 
The  wind  passing  through  the  trees  of  the  forest, 
or  among  the  reeds  of  the  marshes,  moves  them 
to  seeming  articulate  speech,  but  it  tosses  the 
heavily  massed  banks  of  Ferns,  and  sweeps  the 
brake  jungles  on  the  wild  commons,  swaying  them 
to  and  fro,  while  the  silence  that  follows  their 
motion  is  as  deep  as  when  the  pad -footed  cat 
hurries  over  soft  turf,  springs  noiselessly,  misses  its 
quarry,  and  crouches  once  more, — to  the  eye  a 
bewilderment  of  unheard  action. 

From  the  very  circumstances  of  its  evolution  and 
growth,  the  Fern  is  more  aloof  than  the  flowering 
plants  and  also  lacks  the  personal  attributes  which 
have  given  familiar  names  to  blossoming  things. 
These  varied  attributes  have  led  flowers  through 
the  gates  of  poetry  into  the  more  serious  realm 
of  prose,  until  they  not  only  have  become  a  part 
of  literature,  but  have  a  literature  all  their  own, 
while  their  hold  on  household  love  increases  like 
their  race. 

Not  so  with  Ferns.  They  have  scanty  litera- 
ture and  few  gracious  names.  Their  tribal  Golden 
Age  had  passed  before  man  came  to  read  their 
meaning.  Back  in  the  time  of  ancient  life  they 


THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS  187 

were  evolved,  and  held  sway  when  fishes  were  the 
highest  type  of  animals.  Then  gigantic  forms  of 
Ferns,  Lycopods  and  Horsetails,  did  their  work 
of  absorbing  the  carbonic  acid  gas  from  the  sur- 
charged air,  and  transforming  it  into  mighty  forests, 
the  only  terrestial  verdure.  This  work  complete, 
the  atmosphere  purified,  these  forests  were  in  their 
turn  submerged,  turned  slowly  to  vast  beds  of  coal, 
and  higher  plant  forms  appeared  above  them. 
Though  the  Fern  tribe  as  a  modified  type  remains, 
it  has  dwindled  in  numbers  and  stature  until  the 
extinct  species  far  exceed  the  living,  so  that  the 
tribe  that  once  was  all  in  all,  now  holds  a  little 
fiftieth  part  of  the  earth's  flora,  and  is  a  mere  back- 
ground, as  it  were,  for  the  varied  forms,  glowing 
colors,  and  soft  perfumes  which  blend  to  dower  the 
flowering  plants  with  the  fascination  of  personality. 

"I  wonder  why  Ferns  are  such  nameless  sort  of 
things,  not  nearly  so  livable  and  lovable  as  flowers," 
said  Flower  Hat,  as  she  leaned  against  a  sloping 
rock,  cushioned  with  moss  and  Polypody,  cast  aside 
her  hat  among  a  mass  of  Christmas  Ferns,  and 
rumpled  her  hair  after  a  fashion  of  her  own  "to 
let  it  breathe,"  as  she  said,  all  the  time  fanning  idly 
with  a  broad  Fern  frond. 


1 88  THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 

It  was  the  afternoon  in  early  August  when  we 
had  gone  to  Time  o'  Year's  woods,  crossing  Tree- 
bridge  to  find  Rattlesnake  Plantain  and  then  to 
have  a  Fern  hunt  through  haunts  that  were  in  part 
both  moist  and  dry,  continuing  along  the  grassy 
meadow  edges  and  strip  of  bog  that,  together  with 
the  river,  bounded  the  woods  on  three  sides.  At 
that  moment  we  sat  resting,  listening  to  the  sound 
of  the  water  coming  down  the  rocky  glen, — its  voice 
deepened  and  strengthened  by  two  days  of  steady 
rain, — and  looking  at  the  graceful  draperies  that  the 
Ferns  were  casting  about  the  rocks  and  trailing 
down  the  river  banks,  heaping  their  gauzy  fabric 
so  recklessly  near  the  water's  edge  that  it  seemed 
as  though  a  breeze  would  blow  it  in,  while  the 
long,  pliant  Lady  Ferns,  drooping,  covered  each 

other's  roots  until 
they  had  all  the  sin- 
uous grace  of  vines. 
"Of  course  it's  be- 
cause so  few  Ferns 
have  easy  remember- 
able  English  names, 
and  the  lack  of  the 
name,  I  suppose,  is 
because  Ferns  have 


THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS  189 

no  flowers  with  color  and  shape  to  suggest  it,"  con- 
tinued Flower  Hat.  "We  used  to  go  on  'botany 
walks'  when  I  was  at  school  near  Hartford.  In 
those  days  even,  Ferns  seemed  such  dumb  plants; 
and,  to  my  obtuse  mind,  there  were  only  three 
kinds.  One  was  Maidenhair,  which  is  easy  to 
remember  because  it  is  quite  unlike  anything  else. 
Another,  the  Climbing  Fern,  with  scalloped  leaves, 
is  almost  all  rooted  out  by  this  time  —  the  kind  that 
twists  its  stalk  around  the  wood  Goldenrods  and 
weeds  in  moist  places;  the  vine  sometimes  ends  in 
a  spray  covered  with  rusty  dust,  looking  like  seaweed 
or  leaves  that  had  gone  wrong.  The  third  was 
the  Walking  Fern,  which  grew  high  up  on  rocky 
places;  a  Fern  that  we  had  to  scramble  on  our 
hands  and  knees  to  find.  And  when  we  found  it, 
every  one  cried  'Ah!  Oh!'  yet  it  was  n't  much  of 
a  Fern  after  all,  even  though  it  had  a  reasonable 
name.  It  was  merely  a  tuft  of  lengthened -out 
leaves,  each  one  stretching  as  far  as  it  could,  then 
dipping  down  to  root  at  the  end,  and  start  another 
plant,  like  a  sort  of  vegetable  measuring  -  worm. 
The  seed-dust,  spores,  or  whatever  you  call  them, 
were  scattered  zigzag  over  the  under  side  of  some 
of  the  leaves,  for  all  the  world  like  the  caraway 
seeds  on  cookies.  These  three  Ferns  I  could  re- 


THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 


member,  but  all  the  rest  seemed  alike  to  me,  com- 
mon Ferns. 

"Lately,  however,  since  fate  has  decided  that  I 
must  live  in  the  real  country  for  more  than  half  the 
year,  and  I  've  taken  to  following  you  *  thorough 
brake,  thorough  briar  '  like  an  obedient  spaniel,  I  've 
noticed  a  great  deal  of  expression  in  these  same  com- 
mon Ferns.  They  seem  to  have  little  ways  all  their 
own,  and  meanings,  too,  if  we  could  read  them, 
nothing  wonderful,  nothing  really  grand  like  what 
the  trees  whisper  to  one,  only  something  airy  and 
mysterious,  —  scraps  of  songs  without  words  which 
they  think  to  themselves  perhaps." 

w<  If  trees  are  Nature's  thoughts  or  dreams, 

And  witness  how  her  great  heart  yearns, 
Then  she  has  only  shown,  it  seems, 
Her  lightest  fantasies  in  ferns,'" 

I  quoted,  "and  if  you  wish  to  see  a  score  or  more 
of  these  common  Ferns  in  their  haunts,  and  call 
each  one  by  a  name  easy  to  remember,  this  is  the 
season,  for  all  Ferns  have  reached  perfection  now; 
and  this  is  the  place  also,  for  here  in  a  half-mile 
circle  through  Time  o'  Year's  country,  grow  most 
of  the  familiar  landscape  Ferns  which  you  would 
find  if  you  tramped  New  England  over. 


THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS  IQI 

"Oh,  you  are  eager  —  forward,  march!  Take  a 
few  steps,  stand  by  that  great  rock  and  look  down. 
Is  not  this  place  in  truth  haunt  of  the  Ferns  ? " 

Around  the  feet  and  below  on  the  river  edge, 
grow  the  great  fronds  of  the  Osmundas,  or  Flow- 
ering Ferns,  so  called  because  their  fruit  is  borne  on 
partly  or  wholly  separate  stalks 
from  the  green  leafage.  There 
are  three  of  these,  swamp 
Ferns,  growing  in  de- 
cided crowns,  with 
fronds  often  six 
feet  in  length,  the 
largest  of  their 
tribe  as  we  know 
it  in  New  Eng- 
land. They  are  all 
landscape  Ferns 
beside,  upon  which 
we  must  depend 
in  late  Spring  and 
Summer  for  the  dense  jun- 
gle-like effects  in  woods 
and  shaded  road -edges,  which  the 
Brake,  with  its  much-divided, 


I Q2  THE     FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 

spreading  leaves  gives  to  the  open  common  and 
drier  wild  pastures. 

In  Spring  this  "flowering"  fern  clan  is  the  first 
to  assert  itself,  for  it  is  their  sturdy,  wool-mittened 
fists  that  push  through  the  mold,  under  sheltered 
banks,  in  company  with  Wake  Robin,  Anemones, 
and  Violets,  and  the  unfolding  of  the  heavy,  succu- 
lent leafage  is  a  charming  feature  of  the  Spring 
woods  and  roadside  runnels. 

Of  the  three,  Clayton's  and  the  Cinnamon  Fern 
are  the  most  conspicuous  in  their  early  stages. 
When  Clayton's  Fern  unfolds,  the  small  fronds 
(as  Fern  leaves  are  called)  are  wholly  green,  but 
with  the  taller  fronds,  midway  up,  the  color  is 
interrupted  by  a  few  pairs  of  fertile  leaflets,  or 
pinna ,  as  they  are  known  in  Fern  lore;  then  the 
green  leaves  are  resumed  again,  and  continue  to 
the  summit. 

From  this  manner  of  bearing  the  fruit  midway, 
Michaux  called  it  the  Interrupted  Fern,  a  most 
tangible  name,  and  one  that  suggests  itself  the 
moment  the  eye  rests  upon  the  plant.  After  Mid- 
summer, when  the  spores  are  ripe,  and  their  cases 
turn  dark,  these  fertile  leaves  have  a  shabby  look, 
and  generally  die  away,  giving  place  to  great,  palm- 
like  tufts  of  the  broader,  sterile  fronds. 


THE     FANTASIES    OF    FERNS  1 93 

Cinnamon  Fern  carries  its  fertility  wholly  on 
separate  spikes,  green  and  woolly  at  first,  then 
taking  a  cinnamon  hue  after  the  spores  have  been 
shed.  This  tint  both  supplies  the  plant's  name 
and  gives  a  warm  color  to  the  masses  of  coarse 
green  fronds  that,  springing  in  crowns  from  a  vig- 
orous, deep -set  rootstock,  often  take  possession  of 
entire  swamp  meadows  in  such  numbers  that  they 
are  mown  down  in  late  August,  together  with  the 
coarse  grass,  for  cattle  bedding. 

Regalis,  the  Royal  Fern,  is  more  dainty  and 
clear-cut  of  leaf  than  the  other  two,  and  loves  the 
water.  Here  down  upon  the  river  edge  it  is  now 
growing  in  fresh  luxuriance,  the  outer  fronds  dip- 
ping in  the  stream  that  mirrors  them.  The  fertile 
leaflets  are  on  the  top  of  some  of  the  much -di- 
vided fronds.  At  first  they  are  green;  then,  when 
the  spores  are  shed,  they  turn  first  snuff -colored, 
then  dark  brown,  and  finally  wither  away,  so  that 
its  greenery  of  late  Summer  is  due  to  the  wholly 
sterile  fronds  that  are  constantly  replacing  old  or 
shabby  growths. 

Delicate  as  even  the  stoutest  Ferns  appear  to 
be,  they  have  a  wonderful  persistency  about  them. 
Lovers  of  shade  and  moisture,  when  once  well 
rooted,  they  will  remain  in  a  haunt  after  the  shel- 

M 


THE     FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 


taring  trees  have  been  removed  so  long  as  their 
roots  can  find  a  drop  of  moisture.  Of  course  they 
suffer  in  quality,  the  growth  is  stunted,  the  fronds 
are  less  relaxed  and  spreading,  but  beyond  Sun- 
flower Lane,  on  the  edge  of  the  Sea  Gardens, 
there  was  once  a  wood  where  is  now  a  spongy 
meadow  opened  to  the  untempered  blaze  of  the 


THE     FANTASIES    OF    FERNS  1 95 

sun.  Out  in  this  open  place,  adding  strange  tints 
to  the  tawny  marsh  colors  and  the  whites  of  An- 
gelica and  Colic  Root,  are  masses  of  Brakes,  Cin- 
namon, and  Royal  Ferns,  still  growing  bravely,  even 
though  their  seared  tops  are  constantly  drying  away 
and  calling  upon  the  roots  for  renewal.  And  these 
sturdy  roots,  — can  you  reach  them  by  any  moderate 
digging  ?  No ;  deeper  and  deeper  they  have  crept 
for  self -protection,  and  to  supply  the  juices  de- 
manded of  them  by  their  unaccustomed  situation. 

As  you  leave  the  larger  Ferns  by  the  water  and 
look  up  the  bank  from  the  river  to  the  mountain- 
side, Ferns,  and  Ferns  only,  fill  the  eye,  but  of  a 
wholly  different  character, —  not  waving  and  droop- 
ing in  languid  succulence,  but  smaller,  more  rigid 
and  leathery,  of  a  deeper  color,  the  distinct  round 
fruit -dots  following  the  veins  on  the  leaf -back, — 
in  short,  the  Common  Rock  Fern  or  Polypody, 
which  carpets  with  cheerful  evergreen  fronds  the 
rocks  that  are  piled  step -like  up  the  slope,  tier  upon 
tier,  as  far  as  eye  can  see.  The  Polypody  has 
slender,  creeping  roots,  that  bind  the  plants  to- 
gether, as  they  almost  hang  over  the  ledges,  like 
mountain  climbers  held  from  falling  by  a  retaining 
rope.  They  decorate  decaying  tree  trunks,  when- 


ig6 


THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 


ever  these  interrupt  the  line  of  march,  and  gather 
about  the  hollows  between  the  boulders  piled  by 
glacial  force.  Each  fox-lair  becomes  a  fairy  grotto, 
and  we  are  no  longer  in  New  England  woods, 
but  in  an  enchanted  forest  of  Romance  Land. 

"Where  nimble  fay  and  pranksome  elf 
Flash  vaguely  past  at  every  turn, 

Or,  weird  and  wee,  sits  Puck  himself 
With  legs  akimbo  on  a  Fern  !" 

We    certainly   owe    a 
debt   of  love  to   the  half 
dozen  Evergreen 
Ferns  of  woods  and 
open.    Upon  them, 
in    many   places 
where  neither  Lau- 
rel   nor    Hemlocks 
grow,     devolves     the 
wearing  of   the    Magi- 
cian's   green    gage 
above  the  white -spread 
lists  of   Winter,   where 
Frost  holds  tourney,  challeng- 
ing all  to  deadly  combat,  and 


A  few  steps  more!    Stand- 


BBBjjfl| 


THE     FANTASIES    OF    FERNS  1 97 

ing  and  turning  about  slowly  in  this  enchanted 
place  one  finds  Fern  pictures  crowding  in  on  every 
side.  At  the  feet  group  the  dull,  dark  green,  once- 
divided  fronds  of  the  Evergreen  Wood  Fern,  grow- 
ing from  six  inches  to  almost  two  feet  in  length. 
The  stems  are  covered  with  chaff  where  they  join 
the  root,  and  the  round  spore -cases  follow  the  frond 
edges,  on  the  underside  as  Fern  rule  orders. 

Away  toward  the  left,  where  the  sky-line  shows 
through  the  trees,  a  bed  of  clean -washed  Christmas 
Ferns  spreads  its  enameled,  feather -divided  leafage 
about  the  trunk  of  a  Beech,  the  sifting  light 
catching  and  reflecting  upon  the  glossy  leaves  as 
on  a  mirror. 

Above  Tree  Bridge  the  woods  have  the  double 
quality  of  being  both  wet  and  dry.  By  this  I  mean 
that  the  soil  is  never  boggy,  being  made  of  lightest 
leaf-mold,  and  yet  the  moisture  follows  the  mass 
of  rocks,  and  rising  from  the  river,  is  condensed  in 
such  abundance  that,  to  the  eye  at  least,  nothing 
ever  seems  dry. 

Once  above  the  abrupt,  rocky  slope,  there  is  a 
stretch  of  rolling,  high -shaded  wood,  which  rises 
gradually,  to  be  divided  by  a  lane  road  that  winds 
through  alternate  wood  and  wild  meadow  in  what 
is  called  the  Den  District. 


ig8 


THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 


These  woods  are  carpeted  chiefly  by  the  Lady 
Fern,  the  common  Fern  of  thickets  and  moist  tan- 
gles. It  also  follows  stone  walls  with  its  twice  - 
parted  feathery  fronds,  which  often  rival  Silver 
Spleenwort  in  height.  The  Lady  Fern  is  es- 
sentially graceful  and  of  a  lace -like  texture, 
the  stems  are  often  somewhat  colored, 
varying  from  green  to  yellow,  with  a 
pink  cast.  In  late  Summer  the  fronds 
themselves  take  brownish  and  golden 
tints,  which  give  them  added  land- 
scape value.  The  spore  cases  are 
slightly  crescent-shaped,  and  curve 
outward  from  the  veins  that  hold 


THE     FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 


1  99 


them,  oftentimes  being  so  deeply  im- 
pressed as  to  make  an  imprint  on  the 
upper  side  of  the  frond. 

Mingling    with    the    Lady   Fern, 
toward    open    edges,   and    creeping   out 
into  the  fields  by  way  of  damp  places, 
is  the   Slender  Wood,  or  New  York 
Fern,  as  Doctor  Britton  calls  it,  thus 
properly  giving  the   translation  of  its 
Latin  title,  Noveboracensis.    Though 
this  Fern    sometimes   grows    two    feet 
in  length,  it  is  usually  much  smaller. 
An    unfailing  guide   to    its  identity   is 
the  way  in  which  the  lance-shaped  fronds 
dwindle    both  ways  from   the   middle,   the 
general  tendency  of  Fern  leaves  being  to 
slope  upward  from  the  base.     The  leaf  itself  is 
once  divided,  the  divisions  being  deeply  toothed, 
the  round,  brown -edged  fruit -dots  following  the 
margins. 

A  casual  glance  would  lead  one  to  say  that  this 
same  Fern  also  grows  out  in  the  marsh  meadows 
that  divide  the  open  woods  at  intervals ;  but  though 
the  two  often  meet,  a  nearer  view  shows  the 
meadow  lover  to  be  the  Marsh  Shield  Fern,  a 
different  species,  though  a  first  cousin.  Here 


200 


THE     FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 


again  you  may  rely  upon  the  leaf  shape  for  iden- 
tity rather  than  upon  the  tufted  fruit -dots  that 
edge  it.  Mounted  on  a  long,  bare  stem,  the  frond 
begins  abruptly  at  its  full  width,  and  then  slopes 
gradually  to  a  top  less  slender  than  that  of  the  New 
York  Fern.  This  Marsh  Shield  Fern  is  the  com- 
panion of  Gentians,1  Ladies'  Tresses,  and  Turtle - 
head,  appearing  to  walk  freely  through  places  wher- 
ever there  is  a  hint  of  moisture,  standing  out  boldly 
on  bog  tussocks,  climbing  sturdily  down  the  banks 
of  ditches,  and  persisting  in  growing  cheerfully  until 
the  season  of  hard  frost,  no  matter  how  many 

1  See  page  153. 


THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS  2OI 

times  it  has  been  mown  down,  or  its  territory  even 
burned  over. 

Two  Ferns  of  widely  different  characters  are  the 
companions  of  its  moist  haunts:  the  Crested  Shield 
Fern,  almost  an  evergreen,  and  the  Sensitive  Fern, 
which  shrivels  at  the  mere  suggestion  of  frost. 

The  Shield  Fern  is  an  eccentric  in  its  ways  of 
growth.  When  seen  clustering  about  a  bog  tussock 
the  erect  fronds  are  often  two  feet  in  height  and 
six  inches  broad  at  base.  The  leaflets  being  rather 
triangular,  once  divided  and  notched,  are  somewhat 
glossy  and  crisp,  and  the  fruit  of  the  fertile  fronds 
is  round  and  set  between  the  margin  and  midrib. 
This,  however,  is  but  one  of  its  many  types  ;  I 
have  also  found  these  Ferns  growing  in 
the  chinks  of  an  old  well  where,  ow- 
ing apparently  to  lack  of  light,  the 
fronds,  though  a  foot  and  a 
half  in  length,  were  only 
two  inches  broad,  and 
drooped  with  all  the 
limpness  of  a  vine, 
while  between  these  « 
two  extremes  there 
are  many  intermediate  forms. 

Locally,    the    Sensitive 


2O2  THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 

Fern  is  very  common,  not  only  in  wet  meadows, 
but  along  roadsides,  or  wherever  water  settles,  or  a 
few  stones  afford  a  shelter  from  scythe  and  plow. 
The  fronds  of  this  Fern  have  more  the  appearance 
of  the  leaf  of  a  flowering  plant  than  any  of  its 
kindred,  save  perhaps  the  Walking  Fern.  They  are 
broadly  triangular,  deeply  cut  and  toothed,  and  of  a 
crisp,  tender  green  in  which  the  netted  veining  is 
very  conspicuous.  These  leaves,  in  open  places, 
seldom  grow  more  than  a  foot  or  so  in  length,  but 
in  rich  bogs  the  fronds  from  old  strong  rootstocks 
often  rival  the  Osmundas  in  height  if  not  in  grace, 
for  the  great  basal  breadth  of  the  Sensitive  Fern 
gives  it  strength  as  massed  color,  but  detracts  from 
the  general  effect.  Like  the  Cinnamon  Osmunda, 
its  fertile  fronds  are  wholly  separate,  and  shaped  like 
a  contracted,  sterile  leaf,  upon  which  green  spore 
globes  are  set  so  thickly  as  to  be  confluent.  After 
the  spores  are  discharged,  these  spikes  blacken  and 
remain  over  Winter,  often  being  seen  side  by  side 
with  the  fruit  of  a  second  year. 

The  Sensitive  Fern,  as  well  as  the  Marsh  Shield 
Fern,  adds  a  great  variety  to  the  greens  of  mead- 
ows that  are  cut  once  or  twice  a  year,  for  after 
the  Summer  mowing  the  young  Ferns  spring  up, 
following  their  creeping  rootstocks  hither  and 


THE     FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 


203 


thither,  brightening  the  duller  grasses  with  bands  of 
freshest  green. 

Two  other  Ferns  of  swamps  and  moist  grassy 
woods  also  carry  their  globular  fruit  somewhat  after 
the  manner  of  the  Sensitive  Fern,  and  so  are  asso- 
ciated with  it.  These  are  the  Virginia  and  the 
Ternate  Grape  Ferns. 

The  former  has  a  much  cut  and  divided  leaf, 
such  as  we  associate  with  the  Parsleys  and  other 
members  of  the  Carrot  Family. 
With  the  Virginia  Fern  the  fertile, 
grape -like  portion  rises  from  the 
center  of  the  sterile 
leaf  stem,  the  plant 
varying  in  height  from 
six  or  eight  inches  to 
nearly  twenty.  This  is 
a  Fern  of  rich  woods, 
while  its  mate  belongs 
equally  to  the  old 
turf  of  pasture -edges 
and  to  hillsides. 

The    Ternate    Grape 
Fern   is  most  conspicuous 
in  early  Autumn,  when  its  leaf, 
cut  finely  and  in  some  phases  almost 


2O4 


THE     FANTASIES     OF     FERNS 


curling  like  Parsley,  wears  a  deep  bronze  hue,  which 
remains  constant  all  Winter.  To  the  novice  it  does 
not  look  like  a  Fern  in  any  way,  for  its  texture  is 
fleshy  like  that  of  so  many  of  the  flow- 
ering plants  of  Spring.  Without  the  fer- 
tile stalk,  which  does  not  often  appear 
before  September,  there  is  little  to  place 
it  in  its  tribe.  Even  when  once  identi- 
fied, the  leaf  presents 
so  many  variations  in 
individual  plants  as  to 
be  very  puzzling. 
Now  we  go  through  an- 
other piece  of  still  lighter  woods, 
before  coming  to  the  lane  bor- 
der.  Here  and  there  are  single 
crowns  of  the  Spinulose  Shield 
Fern,  which  at  first  you  will  take  for  the  Lady 
Fern;  but  it  has  twice -divided  fronds,  the  lower 
leaflets  are  unevenly  triangular,  and  the  toothing 
has  a  thistle -pointed  fineness. 

Once  in  the  lane,  poor  Flower  Hat  dropped  on 
the  grass  in  a  bewildered  fashion,  mumbling  to 
herself,  and  began  to  stick  scraps  of  Ferns  between 
the  leaves  of  the  paper-covered  book  she  carried, 
writing  cabalistic  sentences  on  the  margins,  and 


CHRWTMA3    FERNS 


THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 


205 


then    pinching    the   corners    of    the    leaves    together 
most  recklessly. 

"No,  don't  stop  me,"  she  exclaimed,  as  I  was 
going  to  speak.  "I  know  it  is  a  shabby  way  to 
treat  a  book,  but  a  novel  printed  from  damaged 
plates  and  bought  in  a  ten -cent  store  is  n't  a 
book.  It's  a  crime!  Besides,  I  can  remember 
these  Ferns  better  from  seeing  them  where 
they  grow  and  keeping  these  bits  of  leaves, 
than  in  putting  my  eyes  out  and  warping 
my  tongue  by  working  them  out  prop- 
erly with  a  botany.  My  mind,  you  ^H 
see,  is  of  the  kindergarten  order,  that 
needs  nice  interesting  object  les- 
sons, such  as  your  dear 
Magician  always  gives. 

"Oh,  what    are    those 
great,  silvery -looking  Ferns 
straight  in  front  of  me,  with 
the    sweeping,    slender    stems? 
Silver  Spleenwort?    What  a  com- 
bination for  a  name!     Yes,   I   see.    . 
The    silvery   effect    in    the   distance 
that  disappears  near  to,  comes  from  the  whit- 
ish  shade   of    green    and    the   light   leaf   lining. 
Then  the  leaflets  are  round-edged  instead  of  being 


2O6  THE     FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 

sharp-toothed,  like  many  others,  and  the  seed  cases 
run  out  from  the  middle  ridge  exactly  like  feather - 
stitching.  What  an  exquisite,  cool  moonlight  shade 
of  green  they  spread  under  the  oaks;  but  why  are 
they  not  called  Feather  -  stitched  Silver  Ferns  ? 
Spleenwort  is  so  suggestive  of  herb  tea  and  a 
mussed -up  liver!" 

Quite  out  in  the  open,  on  the  very  edge  of  the 
wheel-tracks,  a  mass  of  the  triangular  leaves  of  the 
Broad  Beech  Ferns,  with  keeled  lower  leaflets,  were 
huddled  close  around  a  boulder,  as  if  trying  to  draw 
from  it  all  possible  shade  and  moisture.  But  do 
the  best  that  they  could,  now  that  a  sheltering 
tree  had  been  blown  over,  the  sun  beat  down  upon 
them  fiercely  and  they  were  much  more  contracted 
and  crisped  than  their  brothers  growing  in  the 
shade.  However,  they  will  make  a  good  fight,  and 
come  up  anew  year  after  year,  until  some  near-by 
saplings  grow  tall  enough  to  give  them  shade  and 
perfect  shape  again. 

On  each  side  of  the  lane,  where  it  divides  old 
pastures,  waves  of  delicately  cut  Ferns  followed  the 
old  stone  walls,  and,  as  it  were,  broke  over  them, 
and  then  swept  toward  the  wood  edge,  to  be  lost 
in  the  underbrush.  Some  of  the  Ferns  were  a  foot 


THE     FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 


207 


high,  some  two  feet  or  more,  while  others,  though 
perfect  in  shape,  were  small  as  Polypodies.  Some- 
what narrow  at  the  base,  the  leaves  increased  but 
slightly  and  dwindled  to  a  graceful  point,  while 
the  cup-shaped  fruit-dots  and  rounded,  saw- 
toothed  edge  distinguish  it  from  the  Lady 
Fern,  which  it  much  resembles.  All  these 
points,  together  with  a  certain  crisp  tex- 
ture which,  when  crushed  between  the 
fingers  or  dried,  yields  a  sweet  odor,  iden- 
tify it  as  Dicksonia  or  the  Hay -scented 
Fern.  Really,  to  use  a  cant  phrase,  it  is 
the  best  all-around  Fern  we  have  — beau- 
tiful in  its  various  haunts  on  broad,  open 
hillsides  and  commons  as  well  as  in  woods, 
gracious  under  cultivation,  a  useful 
setting  for  garden  flowers  when 
arranged  in  vase  or  rose -bowl.  Of 
a  light,  intense  green  in  Summer, 
and  often  renewing  its  growth, 
wearing  a  delicate  leaf  yellow  un- 
der the  bleaching  touch  of  light 
frost,  fragrant  even  in  its  decay, 
bearing  a  good  semblance  of  life 
when  preserved  beyond  its  season 
by  pressing, —  such  is  the  Hay- 


2O8  THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 

scented  Fern.  And  with  all  its  good  qualities,  not 
the  least  is  that  with  us  it  is  one  of  the  most 
abundant  of  its  race. 

The  shadows  were  beginning  to  lengthen  when 
we  turned  to  go  down  the  mountain  and  retrace 
our  steps  across  the  bridge  to  where  Nell  had  been 
left  comfortably  tethered  in  one  of  the  sheds  belong- 
ing to  the  deserted  cider-mill.  How  the  landscape 
on  every  side,  through  every  vista,  was  replete  with 
Ferns — Ferns  great  and  small  overwhelming  every 
other  form  of  ground  growth.  On  the  level  hill- 
top before  the  rocks  slanted  too  steeply,  the  spaces 
between  were  often  filled  by  beds  of  Maidenhair. 
When  seen  from  above,  the  shining  dark  stems 
were  quite  hidden  by  the  density  of  the  curving 
forked  fronds,  that  have  a  circular  sweep  not  un- 
like the  umbrella  leaves  of  the  Mandrake  or  May 
Apple  of  Spring. 

The  Maidenhair  stem  always  seems  overweighted 
by  the  heavy  top,  which  has,  to  the  eye  at  least, 
none  of  the  airy  qualities  of  the  rarer  Ferns,  but 
hangs  as  if  heavy  with  moisture.  Yet,  in  con- 
tradiction, when  the  ground  breeze  passes,  the 
mass  is  all  a -tremble,  like  a  grove  of  Aspens. 
Neither,  when  looking  down  upon  it,  does  the 


THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS  2OQ 

graceful  poise  of  this  Fern  become  evident.  It 
should  be  viewed  from  below  in  order  to  appreciate 
the  sense  of  perfect  balance  and  the  effect  of  light 
and  atmosphere.  All  the  summer  through  I  had 
tried  to  carry  away  a  picture  of  it  as  it  lives,  but 
it  still  evaded  my  efforts. 

As  we  came  down  the  mountain,  carefully 
creeping  slowly  from  rock  to  rock  —  for  the  pit- 
falls of  that  delectable  place  are  many,  and  one 
foot  may  be  on  firm  ground,  while  the  other  leg 
suddenly  sinks  into  a  hidden  hole  which  swallows 
it  to  the  knee  —  my  eye  rested  on  a  feathery  green 
tuft  clinging  to  the  side  of  a  dripping  rock,  the 
bunch  of  leaves  protruding  through  a  bit  of  ragged 
bark  that  was  in  its  way.  I  hastened  toward  it, 
slipped  and  then  fairly  coasted  down  the  treach- 
erous Moss  to  the  object  in  question,  to  find  it 
a  plant  of  delicate  Maidenhair  Spleenwort,  with 
shiny,  purple-black  stems  and  small,  oval,  ever- 
green leaflets  —  a  Fern  so  exquisite  in  its  fragile 
grace  that  it  almost  seems  out  of  place  set  amid 
the  rigors  of  the  New  England  woods.  Why  had 
I  never  discovered  it  here  before?  In  fact,  I  had 
not  found  it  within  many  miles  of  Tree -bridge. 
Simply  because  the  overhanging  rock  concealed  it 
wholly,  and  the  Mosses  gave  it  color -protection 

N 


210  THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 

except  from  the  side  where,  in  crawling  down  the 
rocks,  I  had  chanced  within   its  range. 

How  to  leave  it  in  its  haunt  and  yet  take  it 
away  in  a  picture,  how  to  find  footing  for  either 
camera  or  self  ?  After  a  time,  however,  both 
things  were  accomplished,  and  I,  too,  sat  down  to 
rest,  propped  against  the  same  sloping,  Fern -cov- 
ered rock  that  had  couched  Flower  Hat  in  the 
early  afternoon.  All  the  while,  above  and  below, 
the  Ferns  wove  their  airy  fantasies,  and  the  locusts 
in  the  lowland  trees  never  ceased  their  sharp  dron- 
ing, and  would  not  wholly  desist  until  their  tune 
should  be  carried  into  the  night  in  a  higher  key, 
and  in  shriller  accents,  by  the  katydids. 

We  drove  along  the  road  once  more,  past  wood 
and  forge  and  mill-pond,  —  the  same  homeward 
bound  road  of  many  a  day  afield.  On  a  narrow 
stretch  below  the  pond  we  turned  sharply  toward 
the  rising  bank  to  make  room  for  an  ox -cart  that 
was  coming  up  the  hill  laden  with  an  aftermath  of 
fragrant  Fern  hay,  the  wind  bringing  news  of  it 
even  before  the  eye  could  distinguish  its  quality. 
As  it  drew  nearer,  the  silver  head  and  long  silky 
beard  of  Time  o'  Year  appeared  atop  the  load, 
while  a  bronzed  youth  walked  beside  it,  guiding 


THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 


211 


the  slow  oxen  with   the  usual   contradictory  native 
jargon. 

"If  'gee!'  means  go,  and  'haw!'  means  stop," 
whispered  Flower  Hat,  "what  does  'gee-haw!'  sig- 
nify to  the  poor  oxen  ?  Possibly  to  do  both  at 


once,  which  order  they  obey  as  best  they  can  by 
their  halting  gait." 

Time  o'  Year  gave  us  a  cheerful  greeting, 
started  to  speak,  hesitated,  and  while  he  did  so 
the  load  passed  by  and  continued  its  creaking  way 
up  hill. 

The  old   man    had    an    anxious    look   upon   his 


212  THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 

face,  quite  different  from  his  usual  expression  of 
cheerful  serenity.  I  wondered  what  it  meant. 

"He  has  something  on  his  mind  that  he  wants 
to  tell  you,"  said  Flower  Hat.  "I  've  seen  it  in 
his  face  ever  since  that  day  when  we  were  hunt- 
ing for  the  flowers  escaped  from  old  gardens.  I 
spoke  of  it  then,  you  may  remember,  but  you  've 
never  been  here  alone  of  late,  and  I  've  surely 
frightened  him  off.  He  never  has  passed  by  like 
that  before.  See,  now,  he  is  looking  back." 

Secretly  I  resolved  to  come  that  way  again  as 
soon  as  possible,  without  my  bright  companion,  for 
the  old  man's  sad  look  went  to  my  heart,  and  his 
was  a  nature  that  if  it  told  a  trouble  at  all,  must 
do  it  privily,  with  the  same  mystery  that  he  said, 
"  Come  and  see ! "  in  leading  me  to  a  rare  flower. 

In  regaining  the  road,  the  chaise  wheel  caught 
in  a  hidden  rut  dug  deep  beside  the  track  to  carry 
off  the  rain  water  that  often  gullied  the  hillside  as 
it  tore  down.  A  jerk,  and  we  should  have  tipped 
over  had  not  clever  Nell  stopped  short.  As  it  was, 
we  found  ourselves  laughing  and  the  chaise  leaning 
awkwardly  almost  against  —  what  ?  One  of  the 
most  beautiful  Fern  pictures  that  I  had  ever  seen. 

The  bank  here  retreated  in  a  sort  of  bay  that 
was  part  rock,  part  loamy  leaf -mold.  Beech  sap- 


THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS  213 

lings,  Dogwoods  and  high  Oaks  shaded  it  heavily, 
while  among  the  underbrush  dead  boughs  gro- 
tesquely decked  with  lichens  had  fallen  picturesquely 
here  and  there.  Between  and  over  these  hung 
great  fronds  of  Maidenhair,  tier  above  tier,  in  suc- 
culent density. 

From  the  road  the  grouping  was  quite  perfect, 
the  Ferns  were  fully  developed  and  all  in  the  deep 
shadow  that  they  love;  but  with  enough  refracted 
light  upon  the  fronds  to  perfectly  reveal  their  detail. 
To  lead  Nell  from  the  ditch  and  adjust  the  camera 
was  a  moment's  work,  but  how  about  the  wind? 
It  was  at  that  moment  whirling  stray  straws  along 
the  road  with  unpromising  vigor. 

"Is  one  permitted,  by  the  gracious  Upholder  - 
of- Nature -as -it -is,  to  remove  obstacles  before  a 
landscape,  or  perhaps  I  should  call  this  composi- 
tion *  still  life'?"  asked  Flower  Hat  laughingly,  as 
she  proceeded  to  pull  up  some  weeds  and  break 
off  a  dead  bush  that  blurred  the  foreground. 

"I  only  wish  that  it  might  be  still  anything  for 
ten  seconds,  for  that  is  the  time  I  must  have  to 
make  a  clear  picture  in  this  shade,"  I  said,  look- 
ing to  see  from  what  quarter  the  wind  came. 

A  few  moments  of  holding  out  a  handkerchief 
settled  that  the  wind  blew  from  the  west  and  came 


214  THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 

down  the  river  valley  in  intermittent  gusts.  I 
watched  some  tall  Grasses  that  were  bunched  at 
the  road  edge  just  above  the  hollow  in  the  bank 
that  held  the  Ferns.  The  breeze  always  struck 
them  a  second  or  so  before  the  Maidenhair  began 
to  vibrate. 

I  explained  the  fact  to  Flower  Hat,  and  sta- 
tioned her  a  few  steps  back  of  me  as  a  sentinel, 
to  cry  "Now!"  when  the  Grasses  signaled  the 
wind's  coming.  Two  plates  only  remained  from 
the  afternoon's  photo -sketching,  and  I  jarred  the 
camera  through  haste  in  exposing  the  first. 

With  the  last  it  was  now  or  never!  The  lens' 
eye  was  opened  and  closed  six  separate  times  to 
avoid  gusts,  before  the  measure  of  time  was  given. 
Yet,  there  is  the  picture  of  the  Maidenhair  poised 
motionless ! 

"If  you  had  taken  a  moment  longer,  I  should 
have  screamed,  from  the  tension  of  watching  the 
breeze,"  said  Flower  Hat.  "I  wonder  what  time  it 
is.  I  forgot  my  watch  to-day  and  the  sun  is  n't 
as  low  as  it  ought  to  be,  considering  how  long  it 
is  since  we  had  luncheon." 

I  too  was  watchless,  so  I  suggested  that  we 
should  ask  the  time  as  we  passed  Aspetuck  post- 
office,  but  they  did  n't  know:  "The  clock  broke 


*    " 


THE     FANTASIES    OF    FERNS  215 

down  last  week.  But  it  ain't  six  yet,  because  the 
sawmill  whistle  ain't  blew  nor  the  carrier  come 
with  the  mail,  and  he  allus  jogs  along  about  half- 
past  five,"  was  the  answer  we  received. 

"Did  you  ever?  And  a  post-office,  too  !"  ejacu- 
lated Flower  Hat. 

Presently  we  asked  a  man  who  passed  along  the 
road  with  a  load  of  straw.  He  squinted  at  the  sun 
and  "calkerlated  it  was  all  of  four  o'clock"  ! 

The  next  people  we  met  were  a  couple  in  an 
ancient  rockaway,  the  back  seat  of  which  over- 
flowed with  sturdy  children.  They  all  nodded  and 
grinned,  but  did  not  understand  our  question, 
evidently  being  a  Hungarian  family  who  had  lately 
come  to  wrestle  with  an  abandoned  Lonetown  farm. 

In  desperation  we  stopped  at  the  second  house 
on  the  main  road  after  crossing  the  river,  as  it 
looked  more  neatly  kept  than  any  of  its  neighbors. 
Flowers  blossomed  in  two  straight  borders  on  either 
side  of  the  walk  and  a  thrifty  poultry -house  united 
the  barn  and  cow-shed. 

"The  time,  mem?"  queried  a  pleasant -faced 
woman,  curtseying  as  she  opened  the  door.  *  'Alf 
hafter  five  hexactly;  my  good  man  is  a  watch- 
maker 'imself  and  works  over  town.  Yes,  we  be 
strangers  in  these  parts,  moved  in  last  boxing  day. 


216 


THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 


'E  works  at  'is  trade,  an'  Hi  raise  heggs.  Could 
n't  find  the  time  out  nowheres,  now  could  n't  'e, 
mem?  That  's  wot  Hi  calls  shameful  in  a  civilized 
country,  —  not  that  hit  his  that,  mum,  —  and  the 


people,  mum,  they  're  jays,  that  's  what  they  his, 
mum,  with  no  more  sense  than  hidjits  !  What  do 
'e  think  now,  but  last  May,  mum,  two  chaps 
come  drivin'  along  collectin'  heggs  for  market,  and 
they  pulled  up  'ere.  *  Hi  'm  right  sorry,'  says  Hi, 


-.  ••'.  THE     FANTASIES    OF    FERNS  217 

'Hi  'ave  n't  heggs  to  sell  the  day,  but  Hi  'ave  n't 
a  hegg  in  the  'ouse.'  'She  'ave  n't  a  hege  in  the 
'ouse,'  mocks  the  man,  an'  they  two  chaps  drove 
horf  laughin'.  Now  wot  was  they  laughin'  hat, 
that  's  wot  Hi  'd  like  to  know?  Did  n't  Hi  give 
'em  a  civil  answer?  Hinglish?  Yes,  mum,  and 
thank  ye  kindly,  Hi  'm  Hinglish  —  a  Devonshire 
dumplin'  too,  bless  ye!  But  'owhever  did  'e  guess 
hit,  mum?" 

As  we  thanked  her  and  walked  out  of  the 
yard,  admiring  the  woman's  honest  unconscious- 
ness, and  swallowing  our  rising  mirth  lest  we  too 
should  be  ranked  as  jays,  some  thick  tufts  of 
Ebony  Spleenwort,  small  sword -shaped  feather  - 
parted  Ferns,  caught  the  eye.  They  were  grow- 
ing in  the  dry  bank  outside  the  fence,  at  the  roots 
and  in  some  clefts  of  a  mossed  and  decaying  cedar 
stump. 

The  once -divided  fronds  had  purplish -black  mid- 
ribs of  the  same  color  as  the  stems  of  both  the 
true  Maidenhair  and  the  slender  Maidenhair  Spleen - 
wort,  while  the  seed -cases  fairly  crowded  the  back 
of  the  fertile  fronds  which  were  the  longest.  Usu- 
ally seen  on  dry  hillsides  or  among  scrubby  grass, 
often  broken  and  imperfect,  we  do  not  realize 
what  a  dainty  little  Fern  this  Spleenwort  is,  until 


2l8  THE    FANTASIES    OF    FERNS 

we  find  tufts  of  it  either  amid  the  soft  gray  moss 
of  Evergreen  woods,  or  in  some  such  point  of 
vantage  as  the  crumbling  old  stump.  Rarely,  as  in 
the  Hemlock  woods,  it  grows  from  the  moist  clefts 
of  rock  ledges,  somewhat  after  the  fashion  of 
Maidenhair  Spleenwort,  and  then  the  fronds  are  of 
a  more  delicate  texture  and  perfect  growth. 

If  the  flower,  with  all  the  subtle  expression  of 
form  and  color,  is  more  beautiful  in  its  haunt,  then 
is  the  silent  Fern  doubly  so,  and  it  is  in  their  haunts 
alone,  whether  of  river -bank,  wood,  moor  or  hill- 
side that  we  may  ever  seek  to  interpret  the  Fern's 
fantasies. 


,     V*      *      \ 


VIII 

FLOWERS   OF  THE   SUN 

VERY  hue  of  flower  and  leaf  crosses 
the    open    fields    at    some    time    of 
the  year,  and  coming,  lingers,  never 
leaving    the    wild    gardens    until    dis- 
missed by  the  leveling   touch  of   frost. 
It  appears  as  if  the  Magician  had  chosen 
these  wide  spaces  for  palettes  upon  which 
to  broadly  mix  and  blend  the  pri- 
mary colors    before    penciling    the 
more  intricate   and   delicate  traceries 
of  wood,  waterway  and  hedgerow. 

The  first  green  of  March,  born  on 
the  margin  of  some  warm  spring, 
creeps  along  the  field  borders  and  pushes 
its  way  outward  wherever  moisture  lures 
it,  until  the  brown  is  gradually  submerged  by  the 
rising  tide  of  verdure.  As  yet  the  only  matching 
tint  in  wood  or  on  the  hillside  is  the  somber 
weathered  green  of  Ground  Pine,  Wintergreen, 
Laurel,  or  Cedar  ;  and  in  the  swamps,  the  listening 
ears  of  Skunk  Cabbages,  pointed  and  satyr-like, 
219 


220  FLOWERS    OF    THE    SUN 

seem  waiting,  alert,  for  the  redwing's  reveille,  the 
roll-call  of  the  Marsh  Frogs,  and  the  meadow 
lark's  announcement  that  now,  at  last,  it  is  "Spring 
o'  the  y-e-a-r !  " 

In  the  well-groomed  farming  country  the  flowers 
of  the  sun  are  routed  from  the  open  fields,  and 
forced  to  take  refuge  along  the  fences  or  on  the 
rocky  islands  of  shallow  soil  that  remain  invincible 
fortresses,  unconquered  by  the  plow.  But  in  two 
places  these  sun -lovers  still  run  riot,  dominating  the 
shiftless  attempts  at  agriculture,  both  in  the  aban- 
doned fields  of  Lonetown  and  in  the  upland  moors, 
between  Sunflower  Lane  and  the  Sea  Gardens, 
where  at  most  an  annual  cutting  here  and  there 
of  the  coarse  grass  is  the  only  disturbing  ele- 
ment, great  stretches  being  left  wholly  untouched, 
so  that  the  ground  is  often  fairly  drenched  with 
color. 

The  flowers  of  the  sun  are,  superficially  speak- 
ing, of  two  kinds,  simple  and  composite.  Of  the 
simple  flowers  the  Wild  Rose,  Milkweeds,  Convol- 
vulus, Meadow  Lily,  and  Prickly  Pear  are  types  ; 
while  the  tufted  aggregations  of  small,  tubular  blos- 
soms, the  outer  row  of  which  may  or  may  not  have 
an  extended,  raylike  petal,  giving  the  flower-head 
a  disk  shape,  are  the  composites,  of  which  the  com- 


FLOWERS    OF    THE    SUN  221 

mon  Ox-eye  Daisy,  Sunflowers,  Goldenrods,  Iron- 
weeds,  and  Asters  are  typical. 

Owing  to  the  strength  of  cooperation  and  to 
vigorous  constitutions,  the  composites  are  an  all- 
powerful  race,  and  their  sway  rounds  out  the  year 
itself,  for  may  not  the  Dandelion  be  found  in 
some  sheltered,  sunny  nook  from  New  Year  until 
Christmas  ?  The  composites  are  almost  as  much 
fixtures  in  the  landscape  as  the  trees,  so  surely 
can  we  count  on  seeing  them  follow  each  other 
in  a  stolid  procession  the  season  through.  The 
very  fact  of  their  massiveness  leads  us  to  regard 
them  more  as  pigments,  of  rich  color  value  in  the 
landscape,  than  as  individual  flowers  of  personal 
and  lovable  attributes.  But  then,  it  is  always  thus: 
massed  effort  invariably  kills  individuality.  So  we 
must  let  the  composite  battalion  march  by  itself, 
if  we  wish  to  be  unconfused,  and  single  out  and 
identify  the  more  winning  though  less  numerous 
flowers  of  the  sun. 

Nearly  all  flowers  flourish  better  in  the  open, 
or  in  sheltered  rather  than  in  deeply -shaded  situa- 
tions, the  few  exceptions  being  leaf-mold  plants 
with  rootstocks  that  creep  close  to  the  surface. 
Almost  all  of  these  plants  might  also  live  in  the 
open  if  the  supply  of  moisture  was  sufficient.  By 


222  FLOWERS    OF    THE    SUN 

flowers  of  the  sun,  however,  I  mean  only  those 
that  we  associate  with  the  brilliant  light  of  the 
summer  landscape  and  its  heavy,  full-fed  greens — 
flowers  that  need  the  direct  sun  rays  to  develop 
the  most  perfect  luxuriance  of  form  and  color. 
Some  we  also  find  in  early  autumn,  before  any 
thought  of  decay  dims  the  plant  horizon  and  while 
the  few  prematurely  red  leaves  that  decorate  Maple 
and  Sumac  do  not  suggest  hectic  color,  but  serve 
merely  to  heighten  the  opulence  of  maturity. 

In  the  fields  we  do  not  look  for  the  delicate 
half-tones  and  stipplings  such  as  we  find  in  woods 
and  along  the  waterways  —  though,  to  be  sure,  the 
Water  Lilies  are  all  sun -lovers  —  but  for  strong 
primary  colors;  so  we  are  constantly  meeting  with 
surprises.  Of  the  three  primaries,  red,  blue  and 
yellow,  the  last  is  the  only  color  found  in  its  purity 
in  large  quantities,  red  ranking  next,  and  blue, 
with  flowers,  as  with  the  plumage  of  birds,  being 
the  rarest  pigment  of  all. 

There  is  another  curious  fact  about  the  distri- 
bution of  these  primary  colors  in  the  plant  world. 
When  left  to  natural  selection  the  three  are  not 
often  found  in  the  same  genus,  if  at  all.  Thus  we 
have  a  red  and  a  blue  Lobelia,  but  no  yellow;  a 
red  and  a  yellow  Field  Lily,  but  no  blue;  a  blue 


FLOWERS    OF    THE    SUN  223 

and  yellow  wild  Aster,  but  no  red;  and  so  on  in- 
definitely. Even  with  the  garden  flora  the  same 
fact  obtains.  The  blue  Rose  is  missing,  also  a 
clear  red  Pansy.  Verbenas,  Sweet  Peas,  and  Salvia 
skip  a  true  yellow,  and  Dahlias  and  Hollyhocks 
are  never  blue.  Hybridization  may  introduce  a  tint 
approaching  the  lacking  color  nearly  enough  for 
commercial  nomenclature,  but  not  the  distinct  pri- 
mary itself.  Why  this  is  so  remains  a  problem  for 
science,  but  the  answer  will  undoubtedly  be  found 
meshed  in  the  mazes  of  plant  fertilization  by  insects. 

For  three  months  these  flowers  of  the  sun  reign 
in  the  meadows,  from  the  May  Buttercups  until 
middle  August,  when  the  vigor  of  the  composites 
largely  overwhelms  the  frailer  plants. 

The  delight  of  finding  the  flowers  in  their 
haunts  never  palls;  it  is  renewed  like  the  seasons. 
But  if  you  wish  to  make  the  pleasure  keener,  it  is 
only  necessary  to  guide  to  them  one  who  is  both 
enthusiast  and  novice.  Such  a  one  was  Flower 
Hat,  of  keen  ear  and  color-gauging  eye,  when  I 
first  took  her  to  my  beloved  sunlit  meadows  with 
a  June  landscape  for  initiation.  Summer,  coming 
in  with  a  swirl,  had  swept  away  the  Painted  Cup, 
Wild  Geranium,  Celandine,  and  Iris  or  Great  Blue 


224  FLOWERS    OF    THE    SUN 

Flag,  before  our  pathways,  which  had  touched  and 
crossed  in  other  years,  met  again,  to  run  as  nearly 
parallel  as  those  of  unsheeplike  people  may. 

One  day,  between  early  and  middle  June,  we 
sauntered,  —  Nell's  usual  gait,  born  of  experience 
when  off  the  highroad,  —  along  Sunflower  Lane, 
pausing  often  to  look  through  gaps  in  the  hedging 
bushes  across  hayfields  where  stiff  Timothy  already 
rustled  crisp  as  Rye.  On  the  left  a  few  well-kept 
upland  meadows,  rosy  with  lush  Clover,  made  vistas 
between  narrow  strips  of  woods,  and  beyond  these 
the  marsh  meadows  and  the  Sea  Gardens  glistened 
with  brilliant  samphire  green. 

The  brushed  and  wooded  places  were  overflow- 
ing with  bird  melody,  and  the  hungry  twittering  of 
fledglings,  answered  by  the  warning  call -notes  of 
anxious  parents,  came  from  every  side.  Bobolinks 
swayed  and  sang  in  tree -tops,  and,  clinging  to  arch- 
ing Blackberry  canes  snowy  with  blossoms,  launched 
themselves  into  the  meadows,  where  they  suddenly 
disappeared  with  the  impetuous  dash  of  a  diver 
cleaving  the  waves,  leaving  behind,  not  a  wake  of 
spray,  but  a  veil  of  music,  to  cover  their  retreat. 

Above  the  tall  Black  Alders  in  the  moist  ditch 
beside  the  lane,  redwings  were  fluttering  and  call- 
ing wildly  as  of  old,  showing  that  at  least  one  way- 


FLOWERS    OF    THE    SUN  225 

side  colony  had  held  its  own,  through  the  perilous 
dark  ages  of  thoughtlessness,  until  the  awakening  of 
intelligence  in  the  cause  of  bird  protection.  An 
osprey  sailed  majestically  across  to  his  fishing -grounds 
beyond  the  beach,  and  a  myriad  of  tiny  warblers 
flitted  on  before  us,  darting  in  and  out  of  the 
blossoming  Grape-vines,  whose  fragrance  wafted 
from  overhanging  trees  and  followed  us  from  leafy 
trails  along  the  fence -rails.  Beside  the  runnel,  that 
was  outlined  by  Ferns  and  the  unopened  flowers  of 
Water  Hemlock,  great  masses  of  the  stalwart  Cow 
Parsnip  held  its  broad  white -flowered  umbels  on 
six-foot  stems.  Once  a  quail  mounted  an  old  fence 
post  and  called  "Bob  White!"  hurriedly,  three  or 
four  times,  disappearing  in  the  brush  without  wait- 
ing for  a  reply. 

We  did  not  speak,  Flower  Hat  and  I,  but 
continued  to  where  the  lane  ended  in  the  open 
fields.  There,  before  we  had  quite  left  the  shelter 
of  the  last  tree,  Nell  instinctively  stopped,  while 
Flower  Hat  drew  in  her  breath  and  released  it 
slowly  in  a  sigh  of  pleasure.  To  define  the  differ- 
ent tints  of  green  alone,  that  were  blended  by  the 
sun  and  an  almost  imperceptible  sea -mist,  would 
require  an  artist,  both  in  temperament  and  words; 
yet  these  greens  were  but  as  the  settings  to  the 


226  FLOWERS    OF    THE    SUN 

sapphire,  amethyst,  ruby  and  gold  that  jeweled  the 
open  stretch,  where,  for  a  mile,  the  eye  roamed 
uninterrupted  over  dry,  moist  or  brackish  meadows, 
unbounded  save  by  an  occasional  stone  or  stake 
bearing  some  cabalistic  sign,  the  dubious  landmarks 
of  many  claimants.  The  gems  of  gold  were  the 
countless  clusters  of  Sundrops,  the  daytime  brother 
of  the  paler  Evening  Primrose,  lowly  tufts  of  Star 
Grass  and  sturdy  Yellow  Thistles;  the  sap- 
phires, the  lily -shaped  flowers  of  the  stout 
Blue -Eyed  Grass;  and  the  sparkling 
amethyst,  its  taller  cousin,  the  slender 
Iris  or  Blue  Flag,  which  blends,  in  the 
exquisitely  penciled  flower,  the  gold 
and  blue  of  its  field  mates  with  a 
purple  tint  of  its  own,  while  the 
freshly  opened  heads  of  escaped 
Clover  and  the  native  Milkwort  car- 
ried the  ruby  tint  right  into  the  shining 
emerald  sedge. 

"Oh,  for  a  musician  to  write  a  sunlight 
sonata!"  murmured  Flower  Hat,  half  to 
herself.  "  Some  one  gay  and  bubbling,  like 
Papa  Haydn,  but  who  would  leave  out  the 
piping  of  shepherds  and  give  instead  the  vital  breath 
of  the  earth  —  a  tone  poet  both  serious  and  emo- 


FLOWERS    OF    THE     SUN  227 

tional.  See  —  listen!  there  is  the  Allegro  motif, 
the  bobolinks  and  twittering  swallows  carrying  the 
theme,  while  the  very  grass  marks  the  rhythm  as  it 
blows  to  and  fro.  One  must  be  deaf  and 
blind  not  to  hear  and  al- 
most see  the  music  that 
expresses  it  all." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "it 
is  music  and  paint- 
ing as  well,  a  perfect  land- 
scape, its  horizon  hidden  in 
sea-mist,  inland  boundaries 
of  Oak  woods  for  contrast, 
and  every  flower  and  leaf  in 
it  as  much  a  part  of  the 
whole,  and  as  dependent  for 
full  meaning  upon  the  com- 
plement of  surroundings,  as 
are  the  separate  notes  of  a 
glorious  chord." 

In  middle  July  we  were  again  in  the  back  country, 
and  resting  from  the  noon  heat  under  some  great 
Sugar  Maples  which,  as  they  so  often  do,  topped  a 
road-bank,  standing  like  a  stately  grenadier  guard, 
exactly  so  many  paces  apart,  in  regions  where  there 


228  FLOWERS    OF    THE    SUN 

are  no  present  signs  of  habitations  to  account  for 
their  planting.  Inside  the  fence  was  a  rocky  waste, 
then  rolling  and  rather  barren  hills,  but  across  the 
road  were  fields,  dry  at  the  edge  and  hedged  with 
vigorous  Wild  Rose  Bushes,  but  soon  dropping  to 
less  barren  if  not  absolutely  moist  soil,  and  a  bit  of 
low  pasture. 

There  was  no  breeze;  waves  of  heat  quivered 
above  the  sandy  road;  the  leaves  hung  heavy,  as 
did  the  languid  air,  which  seemed  to  make  respira- 
tion slow.  Some  cattle,  grouped  under  a  single 
Chestnut  in  the  middle  of  the  pasture,  chewed  their 
cuds  slowly,  while  a  red -eyed  vireo  in  the  Maples 
repeated  his  monotonous  song  over  and  over. 

Even  the  flower  colors,  though  bright,  seemed 
less  emotional  than  those  of  the  June  fields,  per- 
haps because  the  sun's  fierce  rays  somewhat  ab- 
sorbed and  neutralized  the  reds  and  yellows.  The 
great  patches  of  Prickly  Pear  or  Indian  Fig,  with  its 
thick  leaves  set  with  tufts  of  spines,  had  managed 
to  find  lodging  in  the  earth,  which  in  spots  failed 
to  conceal  the  rock  ledge  in  the  near-by  field,  red 
with  Sheep  Sorrel,  bringing  a  picture  of  the  arid 
plains  to  the  hillside.  The  showy  blossoms,  flow- 
ers of  a  day,  three  inches  across  and  set  singly  on 
the  leaf  edges,  are  of  a  clear  yellow,  the  petals 


FLOWERS    OF    THE    SUN 


229 


having  that  peculiar  quality  which  we  see  in  the 
Night -blooming  Cactus,  while  the  stamens  form  a 
thick  ornamental  tassel.  Although 
the  plants  were  still  in  full  bloom, 
there  were  many  withered  flowers 
and  also  some  of  the 
prickly  pear-shaped 
fruits,  which  in  time 
become  a  dull  red, 
and  are  edible  for  those 
liking  their  flat,  sickly- 
sweet  flavor. 

Across  the  road  the 
Wild  Roses  varied  from 
pale  pink  to  deep  car- 
mine, according  to  the 
fulness  or  the  newness 
of  their  bloom,  and  in 
dry  places  thorny  wands 
of  Sweet-briar,  studded  with  its 
flesh -white  flowers,  made  grace- 
ful arches.  Farther  afield,  where 
the  remains  of  a  stone  fence,  long  since  tumbled 
down,  gave  protection  and  drew  moisture,  was  a 
long  line  of  white  foam,  the  flowers  of  Meadow 
Sweet  Spirea.  This  white  line,  as  it  broke  abruptly 


230  FLOWERS    OF    THE    SUN 

away  from  the  fence  and  invaded  the  richer  meadow, 
rose  higher  in  spray  and  here  proved  itself  to  be 
the  tall,  feathery  Meadow  Rue,  with  much -com- 
pounded leaves. 

With  the  Rue  a  stately  plant  appeared.  The 
straight  stalk,  five  feet  in  height,  was  capped  by  a 
pyramid  of  nodding  flowers  and  buds,  fifteen  in  all. 
The  open  flowers,  with  recurved  petals  of  deep 
yellow,  and  tiger -spotted,  tawny -capped  stamens, 
vibrated  at  a  touch,  until  it  seemed  as  if  they 
would  tinkle  forth  music  as  sultry  as  the  day 
itself.  A  giant  Meadow  Lily  this,  grown  doubt- 
less from  a  veteran  bulb,  for  the  others  that  nod- 
ded drowsily  over  the  field  grasses  grew  in  twos 
and  threes  on  stalks  at  most  a  foot  or  two  in 
height  and  varied  in  color  from  yellow  through  tawny 
to  Indian  red. 

A  springy  spot  was  marked  by  the  faded  pink 
spikes  of  Steeple  Bush,  a  cousin  of  Meadow  Sweet, 
and  another  species  that  promises  so  much  and 
yields  so  little.  Glints  of  red  among  the  meadow 
grass  gathered  in  an  erratic  trail  toward  the  shade 
at  the  farther  edge.  Another  Lily,  but  this  time 
the  purple -spotted  flower  is  held  erect,  chalice-like, 
and  when  two  or  three  branch  from  the  straight 
stalk,  circled  at  intervals  by  its  wheeled  leaves,  the 


FLOWERS    OF    THE     SUN 


231 


I  stopped 
with 


effect  is  of  an  exquisitely  wrought  and  enameled 
candelabrum.  This  is  the  Red  Wood  Lily,  so 
called  because  it  is  said  to  grow  in  shade;  but  I 
have  always  found  it,  as  now,  shedding  its  light 
over  the  open  fields,  though,  of  course,  it  may  be 
a  case  of  the  flower  having  survived  the  sheltering 
trees  of  its  real  haunt.  Hereabout,  at  least,  it  is  a 
true  flower  of  the  sun. 

Flower  Hat  followed  lazily,  comparing  the  Lilies 
that  she  held  in  each  hand  with  those 
in   the  grass,  moving  them  to  and  fro 
to  change  the  effect  of  light, 
suddenly,    shading    my    eyes 
hand,  and  she,  unheeding, 
almost  fell  over  me,  crying: 

"What  is  it,  a  big  black 
snake   at  last?     No?     We 
shall     have    to    meet    one 
some    day,    and  I   am    not 
sure    but    what,    like    the 
woman    who    looks    under 
the  bed  for  burglars,  I  'm 
half  disappointed  that  we  have 
not  met  even  a  little  one  as  yet. 
It  deprives  bog -trotting  of  half 
the    adventure    that    I    had 


232 


FLOWERS    OF    THE     SUN 


thought  a  part  of  it.     Considering  the  places,  too, 
that  you  have  rashly  dragged  me  through  the  past 
month,  I  'm  beginning  to   think  that  this  part 
of  New  England  was  really 
discovered    by    St.    Patrick 
in    an    unrecorded    voyage, 
but    rinding    the    territory 
rather  large  to  cover  with 
spells,  and  opportunities  of 
escape    great,    he    retired    to 
practice  snake -charming  in  a 
spot  where  he  could  drive  his 
victims    into    the  ocean   after 
the    dramatic,    orthodox,    and 
rapid    fashion    of    the    devil  - 
possessed  swine." 

"Superbum,  Turk's  Cap 
Lilies,  you  say  —  where?"  she 
continued,  hardly  waiting  for 
my  explanation.  "Oh!  in- 
deed they  are  superb.  Truly, 
I  don't  wonder  that  you  stopped  short  and  could  n't 
believe  your  eyes;  surely  to-day  we  are  allowed  to 
see  the  Lilies  of  the  field  in  all  their  fine  raiment. 
What  reds  and  yellows!  See  that  patch  of  orange 
yonder  where  the  land  begins  to  roll:  what  is  it?" 


FLOWERS    OF    THE     SUN 


233 


A  field  sparrow  perched  upon  a  stalk  of  Mul- 
lein gave  his  little  song  in  a  slow  and  listless  man- 
ner that  lacked  the  precision  of  a  month  ago.  A 
chippy  hidden  in  the  grass  followed  with  his  insect  - 
like  trill  that  belongs  to  Spring  dawns,  and,  heard 
at  noon  in  July,  seems  doubly  unbirdlike.  We  both 
paused  a  moment  as  we  climbed  over  the  old,  tum- 
bled down,  vine -covered  wall  that  was  little  more 
than  a  zigzag  stone  heap,  and  looked  back  at 
the  Lily  field.  Not  a  breath  of  air  troubled  the 
grass  through  which  the  sweep  of  the  land  seemed 
to  move  in  a  legato  measure 

"This  is  the  second  movement  of  your  Sunlight 
Sonato,  Adagio,"  I  said,  when  we  had  reached  the 
orange  blaze  on 
the  hillside,  which 
proved  to  be  a  glo- 
rious mass  of  But- 


234  FLOWERS    OF    THE     SUN 

terfly  Weed,  the  queen  of  Milkweeds,  in  perfect 
bloom,  —  an  oasis  in  a  desert  of  wiry  grasses  and 
Mulleins.  Close  to  the  Milkweed  was  a  bed  of 
Toad  Flax,  or  Butter-and-Eggs,  as  we  call  it  locally, 
the  jolly  yellow  -  spurred  flowers  with  orange  lips 
seeming  to  crowd  and  jostle  one  another  on  the 
spike. 

No  one  would  have  thought  of  grouping  these 
two  flowers  together,  but  the  Magician  sanctioned 
it,  and  the  result  was  a  barbaric  color  effect,  with 
the  bluish  gray  heat  haze  for  a  background. 

"Let  us  get  back  into  the  shade  and  rest,"  said 
Flower  Hat,  covering  her  eyes.  "I  'm  fairly  ex- 
hausted with  color." 

So  we  found  our  way  to  a  partly  shaded  cart- 
track,  that  crossed  the  fields  and  led  toward  the 
road  where  Nell  waited  under  the  Maples.  Milk- 
weeds of  various  kinds  were  scattered  along  the 
open  side  of  the  track,  and  swarms  of  brick -red 
butterflies,  called  Milkweed  Monarchs,  hovered  over 
them,  while  the  color  scheme  was  still  further 
carried  out  in  tint  and  form  by  the  star -shaped 
flowers  of  common  St.  John's-wort,  of  fragrant 
foliage, —  being  the  Herb  John  of  old  gardens,  —  the 
golden  Partridge  Pea  with  sensitive  leaves,  and  by 
the  paler -hued  Yellow  Loosestrife. 


FLOWERS    OF    THE     SUN  235 

With  the  exception  of  the  orange  Butterfly 
Weed,  the  Milkweed  family  use  a  different  color 
scheme,  varying  from  the  white  of  the  Wood  Milk- 
weed through  pink  to  dull  purple. 

Here  by  the  cart-track  the  most  conspicuous 
was  the  Common  Milkweed,  of  the  silk -filled  pod, 
robust  habit,  and  great,  almost  globe-shaped  clusters 
of  flowers  of  a  color  difficult  to  describe,  so  strangely 
does  pink  blend  with  a  dull  gray  tint.  In  early 
morning  or  toward  night  this  flower  exhales  a 
penetrating  fragrance,  so  that  in  passing  along  a 
roadway  edged  by  swamps  I  have  been  deceived 
by  it  into  looking  for  the  Clammy  White  Azalea. 
Next  in  color  comes  the  Swamp  Milkweed  of  low 
grounds  and  waterways,  which  is  a  decided  pink; 
and  deeper  yet  are  the  less  luxuriant  blossoms  of 
the  Purple  Milkweed,  with  deep  pink  flowers  dull- 
ing to  carmine -purple,  and  leaves  more  sharply 
pointed  than  the  Silkweed  near  which  it  grew 
along  the  cart-track  and  climbed  the  hillside. 

"Shade,  rest,  and  —  luncheon!  This  is  indeed 
Adagio  for  mind  and  body,"  murmured  Flower  Hat 
drowsily  over  a  closed  book  an  hour  later.  Her 
enjoyment  of  outdoors  was  as  yet  more  physical 
than  mental.  She  was  soothed  rather  than  stimu- 


236  FLOWERS    OF    THE    SUN 

lated.  Later  on  the  balance  would  be  more  equal, 
and  though  she  might  rest  balmily  in  the  open,  it 
would  not  be  with  closed  eyes,  and  she  would  aban- 
don the  formality  of  holding  a  book  in  her  lap  when 
the  Magician  spreads  his  open  pages  before  her, 
turning  them  to  suit  every  mood,  with  fingers 
none  the  less  real  because  invisible. 

We  had  been  sitting  with  our  backs  toward  the 
west.  Suddenly  the  sun -rays  that  flooded  the  road 
were  withdrawn,  and  we  turned  together  to  see 
the  thunder -heads  racing  up  the  sky  toward  their 
favorite  point,  from  which,  however,  they  have  often 
veered.  But  this  day  determination  was  written  on 
each  puffy  ridge,  and  emphasized  by  a  smoky  yellow 
underscud  that  made  me  immediately  wish  for  the 
sight  of  a  farmhouse,  ever  so  small. 

"Did  I  say  Adagio  a  moment  ago?"  cried  Flower 
Hat,  on  her  feet  in  an  instant,  and  jamming  the 
things  into  the  chaise.  "That  is  over,  and  in  a 
moment  the  Rondo  will  be  jangling  over  us.  Really, 
though  this  movement  is  out  of  its  authorized  place, 
the  Sonata  is  progressing  finely.  If  we  only  had 
the  musical  impressionist  to  transfer  it  from  the  air 
to  paper!  Did  you  see  that  flash?  Don't  put  the 
drinking-cup  on  top  of  the  plate  -  holders  ? — I  didn't 
mean  to ;  but  please  do  hurry  with  that  camera,  and 


FLOWERS    OF    THE     SUN  237 

let  us  get  away  from  these  trees.  Trees  are  very 
bad  things  to  be  under.  Go  over  in  that  old  shed 
yonder?  Never!  you  know  that  hay  attracts  light- 
ning, and  I  see  wisps  sticking  through  the  cracks." 

"Then,"  said  I,  "there  is  nothing  to  be  done 
but  to  pull  up  the  chaise  top  and  boot  and  follow 
the  road  until  we  come  to  the  first  house,  which  is 
all  of  a  mile  away,  I  'm  sure.  Oh !  there  are  the 
first  notes  of  your  Rondo,  and,  of  course,  as  a  mu- 
sician, you  must  expect  many  repetitions  of  them," 
I  continued,  teasingly,  as  a  heavy  peal  of  thunder 
started  a  downpour  of  staccato  rain. 

"Do  keep  in  the  middle  of  the  road,"  begged 
Flower  Hat,  as  branches  brushed  the  chaise  top. 

"Doan*  you  look  to  de  lef,  doan'  you  look  to  de  right, 
Keep  in  de  middle  ob  de  road!" 

I  hummed,  assuming  a  gayety  which  I  did  not  feel. 
Poor  Flower  Hat,  however,  was  not  looking  at 
anything  except  the  trembling  sleeve  in  which  her 
face  was  hidden.  So  I  whipped  up  Nell,  much  to 
her  indignation,  which,  however,  showed  itself  effec- 
tively in  a  snort,  curvet,  and  spurt  of  speed  —  it  was 
a  down-grade,  to  be  sure — which  soon  brought  us 
to  the  farmhouse.  I  also  confess  that  I  do  not 
like  thunder-storms,  and  prefer,  when  caught  out 


238  FLOWERS    OF    THE    SUN 

in  one,  to  have  a  masculine  companion.  Why? 
For  purely  logical  reasons.  If  there  is  any  trem- 
bling to  be  done,  I  want  to  do  it  myself.  And 
I  like  the  manly  reassurance,  "  There  is  nothing 
to  be  afraid  of,"  whether  I  believe  it  or  not. 

Flower  Hat  went  to  the  mountains  in  August 
soon  after  our  last  day  at  Tree -bridge,  and  so 
missed  the  great  flower  show  of  the  composites. 
But  she  reappeared  one  perfect  middle  September 
day,  and  begged  for  another  trip  to  complete  the 
Sunlight  Sonata,  if  it  were  not  too  late. 

"Too  late?"  I  said  hesitatingly.  "Not  for  com- 
posites, but  rather  late  for  the  simple  singing 
flowers.  However,  we  will  try,  though  it  will  not 
be  to  find  orange  and  yellows,  but  rather  more 
fragile  and  uniquely  clad  blossoms." 

"Better  yet!"  she  cried.  "They  '11  be  the  theme 
for  the  Scherzo  or  slender  light -stepping  Minuetto." 

Then  we  departed  from  our  usual  haunts  in  the 
Sea  Gardens  and  Time  o'  Year's  woods,  and  turned 
Nell  in  a  northeasterly  direction,  to  where  low 
meadows  basking  in  sunlight  borrowed  moisture 
from  adjoining  springy  woods,  where  in  time  it 
collected  in  pools,  that  gained  motion  and  mean- 
dered off  as  little  streams  to  find  the  Housatonic. 


FLOWERS    OF    THE    SUN  239 

It  was  a  sparkling  day.  A  keen  breeze  out  of 
a  cloudless  sky  kept  everything  a -titter.  The  grass 
greens  were  still  of  Summer  freshness,  but  here  and 
there  a  Pepperidge,  Scarlet  Oak,  or  Sumac  thicket, 
a  Maple  or  a  Trailing  Creeper,  showed  the  Autumn 
coat  of  many  colors  which  soon  would  wrap  the 
countryside.  The  perfumes  of  the  way  were  not 
born  of  Elderflowers,  Clethra,  or  Milkweed  balls, 
but  of  the  spice  of  ripened  grapes  heated  through 
by  the  sun's  ardor. 

In  wooded  lanes  the  leaves  shook  with  the 
pattering  sound  of  rain  as  in  the  Springtime.  Out 
in  the  open  the  long  grasses  swished  forwards  and 
backwards  with  the  crisp,  sweeping  sound  that  fol- 
lows the  scythe.  Quail  coveys,  protected  by  the 
close  season,  often  ran  fearlessly  along  the  roadside, 
then  rising  in  unison,  with  a  whirr  as  of  one  pair 
of  wings,  dropped,  and  disappeared  in  the  fields, 
where  the  corn  was  already  cut  and  stacked. 
Flocks  of  mixed  warblers  that  were  feeding  and 
waiting  for  night  to  continue  their  migration,  fid- 
geted about  restlessly,  and  high  in  the  clear  sky 
a  company  of  broad -tailed  hawks  were  soaring  in 
wondrous  circles,  after  their  Autumn  and  Winter 
fashion,  as  if  for  pure  pleasure. 

"There  is  a  new  color,"  said  Flower  Hat,  laying 


24O  FLOWERS    OF    THE    SUN 

her  hand  on  the  reins  and  pointing  to  a  low  meadow. 
"It  is  too  deep  a  rose  for  Clover.  What  a  wonder- 
ful mass  of  bloom!" 

"A  new  color  and  two  shades  of  it  to  boot, 
—  two  flowers,  I  think,"  I  said,  looking  carefully, 
"and  the  field  is  evenly  divided  between  them. 
The  lower  half  is  one  sheet  of  the  magenta, 
cross -shaped  flowers  of  Meadow  Beauty;  and  in 
the  drier  upper  half  the  large  Purple  Gerardia, 
which  is  really  a  crimson -pink,  is  growing  as  thick 
as  Clover  in  June.  Surely  the  Magician  has  led 
us  to-day,  for  I  have  never  before  seen  either 
flower  in  such  splendor." 

A  few  miles  farther  on,  and  the  rolling  ground 
showed  patches  of  tall  Blue  Lobelia  of  a  more 
brilliant  hue  than  the  Bugloss  or  Blue  Weed  that 
we  had  found  as  a  garden  escape. 

"What  a  perfect  blue!"  cried  Flower  Hat. 

"Wait  a  mile  or  two  more  before  you  say  perfect 
blue,"  I  answered,  and  then  thought,  What  if  it  is 
not  there  this  season?  But  it  was! 

Between  two  lightly  wooded  hills  ran  a  green 
river  of  marsh  weeds,  moss  and  tussock  grass,  the 
whole  thickly  set  with  flowers  of  two  colors, —  deep 
sapphire  and  white. 

At   a  distance  the  detail  of  the   flowers  was  not 


FLOWERS    OF    THE    SUN 


24! 


discoverable,  merely  the  color  ;    but  as  we  threaded 

our  way  in  from  the  edge,  the  blue  brightened  and 

became  Fringed  Gentian,  and  the  white,  glistening 

like  pearls,  divided  itself  into  countless 

spikes   of   the    crystal    Ladies'  Tresses 

and    the    single,   five-petaled    blossoms 

of .  the  Grass   of    Parnassus,    a    heavily 

veined  flower,  held  upon  a  long 

stem    above    the    tufted, 

plantain -like  leaves. 

The  fringed  petals  of 
the  wide-open  Gentian, 
caught  and  twirled 
by  the  wind  that 
blew  through  the  gap, 
drank  in  the  full  sun- 
light and  wore  the  azure,  the  hue 
of  heaven,  with  which  Bryant 
paints  the  flower  that,  unless  seen  blooming  in  the 
open,  belies  its  famed  charm  as  well  as  color,  for 
the  half -opened  blossoms  of  the  shade  are  purplish, 
contracted,  and  more  interesting  botanically  than 
as  flowers  of  the  landscape. 

Flower  Hat  stood  in  silence,  looking  first  at  the 
sky,  across  which  thin,  feathery  clouds  now  sailed, 
then  at  its  reflection  in  the  flowery  maze  before 

P 


242 


FLOWERS    OF    THE    SUN 


her,  where  Gentians,  Marsh  Ferns,  and  Ladies' 
Tresses  were  blended  and  swayed  with  the  breeze 
that  also  brought  zither  music  from  the  slender 
Birches,  while  the  ripe  grape  odor  and  the  rustling 
reeds  on  the  marsh  edge  suggested  the  rhythmic 
treading  of  the  wine  press  of  pastoral  days. 

"This  is  the  finale,"  she  cried.  "Minuet  or 
Scherzo,  as  you  will.  We  have  seen,  we  have 
breathed,  we  have  heard!  Yet,  alas!  who  will 
imprison  our  Sunlight  Sonata  for  us,  that  others 
may  believe  ?  " 


IX 


A   COMPOSITE   FAMILY 

UGUST  ushers  in  the  reign  of 
the  Composites,  whose 
realm,  wide  as  the  land,  is 
,entered  by  many  ways. 
Every  road  that  escapes  the 
annual  "turnpiking"  and 
fence -clearing,  so  dear  to  the 
heart  of  s'lectmen,  becomes  a 
highway  through  it,  while  Sun- 
flower Lane  is  the  direct  passage  to 
the  Palace  of  the  golden -crowned  mon- 
archs,  where,  even  before  July  has  left,  Joe 
Pye,  of  robust  stature,  takes  his  place  as  chamber- 
lain, with  Boneset  for  court  physician,  Black -eyed 
Susan,  jolly  though  not  in  her  first  youth,  for 
lady-in-waiting,  Dent-de-lion,  scattering  gold  coins 
upon  the  grass,  as  chief  almoner,  Ironweed  for 
armorer,  and  Fragrant  Everlasting  as  perfumer;  for 
the  Composite  Tribe,  it  will  be  noticed,  are  very 
old-fashioned  and  conservative  in  the  matter  of 
perfumes,  seldom  venturing  beyond  the  herby  odors. 


244  A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY 

A  little  space  before  the  lane  merges  in  open 
fields  is  the  Throne  Room  itself,  where,  until  frost 
snuffs  the  lights  and  locks  the  door,  Giant  Wild 
Sunflower  is  king,  and  reigns  majestically,  holding 
his  head  high  above  his  tallest  subject  as  he  watches 
his  progeny  crowding  every  bit  of  hospitable  ground 
far  and  wide  throughout  the  meadows,  even  ven- 
turing to  tiptoe  into  the  brackish  overflow  that 
quickens  the  Sea  Gardens. 

For  some  strange,  but  doubtless  scientific  reason, 
of  recent  date,  the  tribe  of  the  Composite,  in  being 
given  an  English  name,  is  by  Britton  and  Brown 
called  the  Thistle  Family.  Why  Thistle,  instead  of 
Aster,  Goldenrod — the  most  widely  distributed  of  the 
tribe — or,  better  yet,  Sunflower,  the  tallest  and  most 
conspicuous  of  the  group,  I  cannot  fathom.  In 
England  the  race  is  called  the  Asterworts;  yet,  after 
all,  the  direct  translation,  Composites,  under  which 
it  figured  in  Gray's  familiar  botany,  is  the  best, 
favoring,  as  it  does,  no  one  household,  and  aptly 
describing  this  class  of  plants  where  numerous  in- 
dividual blossoms  are  colonized  and  gathered  into  a 
head,  making  what,  to  the  casual  observer,  appears 
to  be  one  single  flower. 

Strong  with  the  power  of  cooperation,  the 
Composites  have  a  perpetual  representation  at  the 


A    COMPOSITE     FAMILY 


245 


Sun's  council  fire,  about  which  the  twelve  months 
sit  awaiting  in  turn  for  the  season  to  give  their 
varied  offerings.  From  November  until  early  April 
the  Dandelion,  opening  bravely  in 
thawed  places  and  warm  corners,  is 
the  only  resident  member.  In  late 
April  the  woolly  leaves  and  light  pur- 
ple wheels  of  Robin's  Plantain  may 
be  seen  carrying  the  hue 
of  the  paler  Violets  into 
dry  ground  and  well  up 
hillsides  where  the  aster- 
like  flowers  keep  com- 
pany with  the  white 
fluff  of  the  early 
Everlasting,  that  quite 
suggests  its  local  name 
of  Pussy -toes. 

In  May,  Chamo- 
mile  takes  the  field,  with 
its  fine -cut  leaves,  a  fore- 
runner in  shape,  though 
not  in  size,  of  its  cousin, 
the  Ox  -  eye  Daisy ;  and  before  June  has  fairly 
arranged  her  exquisitely  brocaded  draperies,  this 
same  Daisy  is  seizing  upon  waste  fields  and  road 


246  A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY 

edges,  cutting  "across  lots"  through  the  most  care- 
fully tended  of  hay  fields,  living  as  a  squatter  im- 
possible to  uproot  around  the  edges  of  pastures, 
and  impertinently  lounging  along  the  grass  borders 
of  the  garden,  even  after  being  violently  turned 
away  many  times  from  the  flower-beds  where  it 
sought  shelter  behind  the  large  branches  of  her- 
baceous perennials.  Of  itself  clear-cut  and  hand- 
some, the  flower  that  children  love  and  may 
gather  by  the  bushel  unchidden  ;  of  wonderful 
landscape  value  when  massed; — this  poor  Ox-eye 
Daisy  has  gained  ill  repute  from  an  inherent  tact- 
lessness, for  which  it  is  no  more  responsible  than 
is  the  English  sparrow  for  his  inordinate  appetite, 
fertility,  and  manners  unbecoming  a  gentlemanly 
bird.  Both  flower  and  bird  usurp  the  places  of 
their  betters  with  a  familiarity  of  demeanor  which 
has  bred  in  us  an  aggressive  contempt. 

"Both  had  ought  to  be  drove  out!"  ejaculated 
Time  o'  Year  one  day  as,  looking  across  his  best 
hay  meadow,  resown  only  two  years  before,  he 
realized  that  it  was  more  white  than  green,  while, 
at  the  same  time,  a  partly  disabled  bluebird  tumbled 
to  the  fence  in  front  of  him,  having  been  worsted 
by  a  sparrow  as  he  defended  his  home  in  a  hollow 
apple  branch. 


A    COMPOSITE     FAMILY  247 

"The  mischief  of  it  is,"  he  continued,  ruefully, 
picking  up  the  bluebird,  smoothing  its  feathers,  and 
setting  it  upon  a  shaded  branch,  while  he  shied  a 
stick  at  the  invading  sparrow,  "both  on  'm  works 
more  hours  a  day  than  we  do,  and  has  more  time 
ter  give  ter  holdin'  on  than  we  to  rootin'  and 
drivin'  'em  out.  So  naturally  we  can  split  our 
throats  a-provin'  that  they  'd  orter  go,  but  they 
don't,  all  the  same!" 

In  late  May  and  early  June  the  fragrant  Yellow 
Thistles  show  their  bristling  leaves,  which  give  a 
hornet's  sting  to  those  that  touch  them,  along  the 
edges  of  brackish  marsh  meadows.  This  Thistle 
is  an  unpickable  flower,  but  one  that  adds  great 
charm  to  the  foreground  of  the  meadow  land- 
scape, otherwise  somewhat  monotonous  with  its 
straight -growing  grasses,  by  weaving  through  it  a 
unique  brocaded  pattern  of  leaf  and  flower,  that  is 
of  infinite  relief  to  the  eye  seeking  in  vain  for 
focus  amid  the  blending  colors  of  the  unfenced 
expanse. 

Next  to  the  Dandelion  and  Ox-eye,  the  Thistles 
are  the  Composites  most  constantly  with  us,  for 
their  picturesque  if  mischievous  flowers,  represented 
by  the  Field,  Pasture,  Swamp,  Creeping,  and  Scotch 


248  A    COMPOSITE     FAMILY 

varieties,  nlay  be  seen  from  May  until  November, 
and  the  rugged  Bur  Thistle,  like  the  veritable 
tramp  that  it  is,  only  disappears  when  literally 
snowed  under. 

June  also  brings  the  white  bunches  of  Yarrow 
with  the  pungent  herbage,  while  as  the  month 
passes  the  white  of  the  Ox-eye  Daisy  grows 
dingy,  and  Black -eyed  Susan,  vigorous  and  bus- 
tling in  a  blaze  of  Indian  yellow,  takes  its  place, 
giving  the  keynote  of  the  color  scheme  that  will 
gradually  dominate,  until,  in  many  places,  the  field 
flag  of  August  and  September  is  a  tricolor  of 
gold -green -purple. 

In  July  the  golden  buttons  and  vigorous  fern- 
cut  leaves  of  Tansy  draw  attention  to  the  roadsides 
and  waste  corners  that  it  brightens,  at  the  same 
time  giving  a  wholesome,  herby  odor,  telling  of  its 
medicinal  qualities,  which  have,  in  fact,  gained  for 
the  flowers  the  somewhat  dubious  name  of  Bitter 
Buttons.  During  this  month,  also,  the  various 
Coneflowers,  Black-eyed  Susan's  taller  kinsmen, 
draw  the  eye  from  the  open  fields  to  the  low  river 
borders,  where  the  notched  yellow  rays  of  the 
green -headed  Coneflower,  held  well  above  the 
deeply-cut  leaves,  rival  the  Giant  Sunflower  in 
height,  bending  above  the  intervening  barriers  of 


A    COMPOSITE     FAMILY 


249 


Joe    Pye,  Ironweeds,  and  rank -grown  river  tangle, 
to  be  clearly  mirrored  in  the  water. 

One    glowing    August    morning,    when   a    fresh 
easterly  wind,    having  dispersed  the  heat 
haze,    brought    an    invigorating    hint    of 
September,    Nell    and    I   started 
out    to  look    for  Time  o'  Year. 
It  was    the  first   day  that  I   had 
ever     deliberately    tried    to    find 
him.    I  had  oftentimes  wondered 
as    to    his    whereabouts,    or   ex- 
pected to  see   him  in  some   ac- 
customed field,   or  following  the 
river    path,    but    usually    I    had 
come    upon    him    unexpectedly, 
or  he  had  overtaken  me  in  a  mys- 
terious manner,  as  if  in  answer  to 
a  telepathic  impression,  at  the  very 
moment  when  he  was  most  needed 
as  a  guide  or  counselor. 

Where  to  locate  him  this  day 
was  indeed  a  question.  His  range 
was  wide,  and  his  little  cabin  the 
most  unlikely  place  to  find  him 
between  sunrise  and  sunset.  So, 


25O  A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY 

after  crossing  the  hills  and  leaving  the  more  fre- 
quented roads  behind,  I  let  the  reins  hang  loose,  so 
that  Nell  might  choose  the  path  herself,  as  any 
one  of  the  three  roads  that  diverged  from  the  hill 
below  the  Lilac  House  led  to  an  equally  uncertain 
hunting  ground. 

Already  the  Goldenrods  were  bright  in  field  and 
swamp,  crowding  close  to  the  wheel  -  tracks  and 
climbing  to  the  tops  of  gravel  banks  where  little 
else  could  find  footing.  The  landscape  from  middle 
August  to  middle  September  is  so  identical  as  to 
make  one  wish  that  the  conventional  division  of 
the  seasons  followed  the  natural  law,  and  that  Sum- 
mer might  have  all  the  golden  days  that  really  be- 
long to  her  until  the  autumnal  equinox  is  reached, 
September  twenty-first. 

Almost  all  the  common  Goldenrods  were  repre- 
sented, either  in  the  wayside  crowd  or  in  the  more 
exclusive  groups  that  peeped  out  from  the  woods, 
or  carried  gleams  of  sunlight  along  the  swamp 
edges  to  cheer  the  stately  somberness  of  Cat -tail 
Flags. 

The  Silver  Rod,  with  its  leafy  wand  of  whitish 
blossoms,  mingled  with  the  Blue -stemmed  Golden - 
rod,  which  bears  its  flowers  in  little  bunches  in  the 
leaf  axils,  on  the  partly-shaded  banks  of  the  upper 


,    • 


A    COMPOSITE     FAMILY  251 

Hemlock  road,  while  the  two  Bush  Goldenrods,  the 
Robust  and  the  Slender -fragrant,  with  flat -topped 
flower -clusters  held  well  above  leaves  of  two  de- 
grees of  narrowness,  continued  the  yellow  through 
arid  open  places  until,  at  the  top  of  the  next  hill, 
these  also  merged  in  a  confusing 
throng  composed  of  the  Elm- 
leaved,  Showy,  Anise -scented  and 
Cut -leaved  species. 

Goldenrod,     collectively,     is     a 
delight   to   the  eye  from    its  color 
and  an  indispensable  factor  in  the 
landscape.       For    decorative    pur- 
poses it    is  eminently   satisfactory, 
sought    out     and    beloved    by    all 
men,  as  is  amply  proved  by  "Gol- 
denrod weddings,"  and  by  the  nu- 
merous jars,  pitchers,  water  cans, 
and  bean -pots  filled  with  it  that 
decorate    suburban  stoops,   shield- 
ing   the    feet    of    the    sex   whose 
idea    of   rural   pleasure  is  to 
sit     exercising     the     patient 
piazza  rocking  chairs. 

The  Composites,   as  a 
whole,  are  first  and  last  flow- 


252  A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY 

ers  of  the  people,  flowers  that  may  be  gathered 
freely,  that  are  undiscouraged  by  much  handling, 
reviving  cheerfully  and  living  for  weeks  after  a 
protracted  journey  under  the  seat  of  a  picnic  wagon, 
and  dangerously  easy  to  transplant, — in  short,  to 
be  considered  and  used  decoratively  more  as  we 
regard  textile  fabrics  than  as  flowers. 

Taken  individually,  however,  and  from  the 
standpoint  of  calling  each  member  of  this  Com- 
posite household  by  name,  the  Goldenrods,  outside 
of  half  a  dozen  well-marked  species,  offer  the  Chi- 
nese puzzle  of  the  floral  world.  In  fact,  they  are 
a  byword  among  plant  students,  who  say  that  if  a 
botanist  is  ever  condemned  to  the  severest  punish- 
ment that  the  underworld  can  mete,  the  penalty 
will  be  to  write  a  monograph,  accurately  describing 
and  identifying  all  the  known  Goldenrods. 

As  I  have  often  found,  in  connection  with 
tramps  afield,  when  I  least  expect  the  unexpected, 
it  happens.  Nell  lifted  the  Goldenrod  haze  that 
had  made  me  oblivious  as  to  exactly  which  of 
the  wood  roads  we  were  following,  by  stopping 
suddenly  and  giving  a  sort  of  interrogative  whinny, 
as  much  as  to  ask,  "Do  we  tie  here?"  To  my 
surprise  I  found  that  we  were  abreast  of  an  old 
shed,  under  which  she  had  often  spent  the  middle 


A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY  253 

of  warm  days  while  Flower  Hat  and  I  roamed 
about  the  Tree -bridge  region.  The  shed  was  one 
of  Time  o'  Year's  scattered  bits  of  property  and 
only  separated  by  a  tangled  strip  of  garden  flowers 
from  his  cabin,  behind  which  he  was  now  sitting  on 
an  Elm  stump  used  for  a  chopping-block,  his  fine 
head  held  between  his  hands,  his  deep  eyes  open, 
and  gazing  straight  before  him  at  nothing,  unless 
it  was  the  yellow  ribbon  of  dwarf  Brook  Sunflowers 
that  started  from  below  the  overflow  tub  by  his 
well,  and  looped  and  twisted  to  join  a  broader  band 
that  outlined  a  meadow  pool. 

Nell  had  already  turned  into  her  familiar  quar- 
ters under  the  shed,  and  I  hastened  across  the  lot 
below  to  come  within  distant  range  of  the  old  man 
without  surprising  him  into  betraying  any  trouble 
that  he  might  not  wish  to  reveal.  I  paused  a  mo- 
ment to  look  up  at  a  gigantic  stalk  of  Canada 
Goldenrod  that  held  its  plumes  high  above  my 
head,  and  at  once  became  conscious  that  he  was 
coming  toward  me,  his  wide  straw  hat  pulled  well 
over  his  eyes,  one  hand  twisting  nervously  in  his 
wonderful  beard  that  glistened  like  spun  silver  or 
the  newly  released  silk  of  Milkweeds. 

"There  wa'n't  no  other  way  out  of  it.  I 
allowed  when  the  breeze  came  up  long  about  sun- 


254  A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY 

rise  that  you  'd  jest  have  ter  come  to -day,"  he  said, 
by  way  of  greeting,  speaking  more  rapidly  than  I 
had  ever  heard  him.  "Is  that  quick -movin',  fidgety 
young  lady  along  that  always  shifts  about  and 
grabs  posies  up  first  and  is  drefful  sorry  a'ter- 
wards?"  he  added  anxiously.  "No,  I  ain't  sick. 
Do  I  look  worriet  ?  Well,  I  be,  and  if  you  can 
spare  time  to  set  down  in  the  shade  a  bit  in 
patience,  I  '11  unfold  it  ter  you.  It  's  more  'n 
thirty  years  ago  since  I  took  counsel  o'  any  one, 
an'  then  it  was  of  a  woman,  an'  so  long  as  I  had 
her  light  to  go  by,  things  never  went  altogether 
wrong;  but  when  she  left  me  I  groped  along  the 
best  I  could,  and  by  keepin'  her  lights  in  sight  and 
stayin'  alone  or  mostly  in  the  wood  path,  I  allowed 
I  could  n't  get  far  astray,  and  I  was  happy  — 
though  sometimes  I  e'ena'most  followed  Job's  do- 
ings in  the  Scripters.  But  late  days  som'at  's 
come  that  's  upset  everythin',  and  the  lights  has 
bobbed  about  uncertain  as  the  Jack  o'  Lanterns 
over  the  swamp  yonder.  So  I  thought,  seeing  as 
you  read  birds'  feelin's  and  the  natur'  of  posies, 
and  talk  to  yer  mare  like  a  sister,  maybe  you 
might  understand  me,  for  I  'm  only  a  bit  of  a  weed 
agoin'  to  seed  by  the  wayside." 

As  Time   o'  Year  said   "when  she  left  me,"  he 


A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY  255 

made  a  backward  gesture  toward  the  hillside  bury- 
ing-place  a  quarter  of  a  mile  beyond,  with  its 
uneven  slate  slabs,  which  I  had  never  before  noticed 
was  plainly  visible  from  his  home. 

We  had  gravitated  toward  the  shade  behind  the 
cabin  where  he  had  been  sitting.  He  disappeared 
for  a  moment  and  brought  out  a  low,  straight - 
backed  chair  —  a  woman's  sewing  chair,  I  surmised 
— which  he  placed  facing  the  river,  and  again 
seated  himself  on  the  chopping-block. 

Two  or  three  minutes  passed,  which  seemed 
like  half  an  hour.  A  kingfisher  flew  over,  some 
jays  argued  noisily  below  in  the  dense  arbor  of 
river  grapes,  and  the  distant  commotion  among  a 
flock  of  crows  that  made  their  roost  from  late 
Summer  onward  in  the  Cedar  woods,  suggested 
that  an  owl  had  impolitely  invaded  their  territory 
and  was  provoking  discord. 

Still  Time  o'  Year  sat  silent.  For  occupation 
I  counted  the  various  Asters  that  made  a  fringe 
along  the  uneven  garden  fence.  There  were  five 
kinds,  but  growing  in  such  luxuriance  as  to  ap- 
pear forty.  The  tallest  of  the  plants,  a  sturdy 
bush,  in  fact,  was  the  common  Blue  Wood  Aster, 
with  large,  heart-shaped  leaves  and  violet-blue 
flowers;  with  it  mingled  the  Early  Purple,  Violet 


256 


A    COMPOSITE     FAMILY 


Wood  and  smaller  bushes  of  White  Heath  Aster, 
the  familiar  Michaelmas  Daisy  of  roadsides,  while 
groups  of  patens,  the  Late  Purple  Aster,  so  called 
because  of  its  long  blooming  season,  with  ovate 
clasping  leaves  and  deep  violet,  daisy -like 
rayed  flowers,  made  broad  splashes  of  rich 
color  within  the  garden  itself. 

"Ephraim   is   dead,"   said  Time 
o'  Year,  suddenly,  and  then  paused, 
as  if   announcing  the  end  of  some 
one  so  well  known  as  to  be  a  part 
of  history. 

I  searched  my  brain  for  an 
interpretation,  and  at  the  mo- 
ment when  I  remembered 
that  it  was  his  own  baptismal 
name    and    therefore    probably 
that  of  his  son  who  had  dis- 
appeared so  long  ago,  he  took 
up  the  thread  again. 
"He  was   my  boy.     You  prob- 
ably never   heard  o'   him,   being 
young  if   even    born  when   it    hap- 
pened,   and    anyway,    only    acquainted 
with  posies  hereabout,  not  folks. 
"He  seemed    a   terrible  likely  child, 


C^T^  TAI4.4    Af4D    J#*-W#    GDl^EH*00 


A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY  257 

our  only  one,  and  bright -minded,  quick  at  his 
book-tasks,  in  which  his  mother"  (how  gently  the 
word  was  uttered),  "havin'  been  a  school- 
ma'am  herself,  took  pride.  His  fault 
was  allus  seeing  things  better  than  they 
be,  or  makin'  'em  out  so,  any  chance. 

"A  good   way   o'  lookin'   at    things? 
No,    I    don't    mean    bein'    jest    sort   o' 
cheerful  about   bothers. 
That  way    's   upliftin'. 
His  mother,  she  was  like 
that.     But  I  mean  the 
stretchin'    o'    facts 
till  they  get  so  out 
er    shape,    no    one 
would  know    'em.      If 
he     caught    a    pick'rel,     it 
was    allus   six   when    the   news 
got  out.     Not  that  thet  black- 

,       ,.  ,  .  WHITE    HEAJH 

ened    him,     cause    an    increase 

often    happens    ter    fish    when 

out   er   water.     But   he  'd  tell    things   that  had 

no     backin'    and     put    folks    ter    inconvenience. 

'Long   about    the    winter    when    he    was    sixteen, 

eggs  was  terrible  skeerce, —  hadn't   had  fresh  ones 

at  the  store   in  two    weeks,  and  the  meat  peddler 


258  A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY 

that    usu'lly  picked   'em    up  over   twenty   miles   o' 
country  even  got  out  o'  limed   ones. 

"Come  about  Christmas  time  folks  got  nervous, 
expectin'  company  and  no  eggs  for  makin'  cakes  and 
squash  pies.  Eph,  he  was  down  to  the  store  for 
oil  and  heard  the  talk.  'Pshaw  !'  said  he,  an'  the 
minister  stood  right  by  him  when  he  said  it,  'We 
folks  has  got  plenty  o'  eggs,  and  ma  's  a-limin'  of 
'em  down.  She  's  got  a  trick  o'  mixin'  sassage 
meat  into  their  meal  ter  make  'em  lay,  and  keepin' 
their  nesthouse  hot  with  the  old  wood  stove.' 

"Of  course  this  sounded  likely  enough  to  shet 
off  any  suspicions.  That  night  it  snowed  heavy, 
and  next  morning  we  saw  two  sleighs  with  a  plow 
in  front  breakin'  the  way  up  hill.  'What's  mis- 
chanced?'  quoth  she;  'there  's  the  doctor's  cutter, 
and  the  Jedge  and  the  minister  a-ridin'  together 
behind  it.' 

"'I  dunno,'  I  allowed,  bein'  more  startled  than 
I  showed,  mistrustin'  somethin'  inwardly.  'Jedging 
from  those  that  's  comin'  it  might  be  for  a  weddin', 
a  bornin',  or  a  bury  in',  only  there  's  no  folks  ripe 
for  either  up  this  cross  road.' 

"Eph  came  out  from  behind  the  stove  where 
he  was  readin'  a  tale  of  Injins  that  they  give  away 
that  fall  with  cans  o'  gunpowder  down  ter  the 


A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY  259 

Center.  He  took  a  scared  look  out  o'  the  win- 
der, and  slipped  over  toward  the  barn,  jest  as 
the  folks  halted  and  began  to  get  out  baskets. 
'We  've  come  fer  eggs!'  shouted  the  doctor, 
hurryin'  so  's  to  be  first.  '  Name  yer  own  price 
in  cash !  * 

"This  tells  you  how  eggs  was  prized  then,  for 
in  those  times  things  was  mostly  traded,  and  I  re- 
member one  year  the  only  cash  went  through  my 
hands  was  a  three -cent  bit  and  two  paper  quarters. 

"Naturally  it  all  come  out  that  Eph  'd  said  we 
had  eggs,  and  they  was  terrible  put  about,  breakin' 
three  miles  o'  road  for  nothin'.  The  minister,  he 
preached  on  lyin'  the  next  Sunday,  and  called  for 
the  prayers  o'  the  congregation  for  Ephraim,  in 
which  the  doctor,  bein'  a  deacon,  led,  and  left 
nothin'  unsaid.  The  result  was  such  hectorin'  all 
round  that  in  the  spring,  as  soon  as  the  roads  was 
good,  the  boy  ran  off  with  a  feller  that  travelled 
around  sellin'  maps  and  sech,  who  had  been  hang- 
in'  about  the  Center  interviewin'  the  school  com- 
mittee. 

"Practical  joke?  Folks  didn't  understand  him? 
Had  too  much  'magination?  Ye  're  kindly  disposed, 
I  see,  just  like  his  mother  was.  She  allers  allowed 
his  meanin's  was  misread.  Maybe  in  a  big  town  it 


26O  A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY 

would  'a'  been  overlooked  and  he  been  guided  into 
a  story -writer,  as  yer  say,  but  here  around  Lone- 
town  he  was  just  plain  liar.  The  minister  had 
proved  it  by  Scripter,  and  that  ended  it,  and  folks 
was  shet  of  Eph,  for  ministers  was  dreadful  unre- 
lentin'  those  times,  and  felt  it  their  duty  to  keep 
God  stirred  to  wrath  constant.  This  minister  in 
particular  was  one  o'  them  that  did  n't  even  approve 
o'  parts  o'  the  New  Testament,  thinkin'  *  Suffer 
little  children'  led  to  breach  o'  discipline,  and  'Our 
Father'  too  comfortin'  and  free  a  way  o'  speech 
to  be  advisable. 

"We  never  heard  o'  Ephraim  for  nigh  two 
years,  and  before  we  did  his  mother  died.  The 
doctor  called  it  lung  fever,  but  it  was  just  shame 
and  sorrow,  together  with  opening  the  winder  a 
crack  at  night,  when  the  wind  made  queer  noises, 
to  hear  if  be  was  comin'.  'If  ever  he  comes 
home,'  she  said,  'don't  raise  the  past.  And  if  he 
don't  come,  back  him  up  all  you  're  able  when- 
ever you  can.' 

"Then  I  rented  out  the  farm  for  ready  money, 
and  moved  down  here  so  as  to  save  a  little  to  help 
him  if  the  right  time  came.  I  knew  he  'd  never 
come  back  though,  and  I  was  content  he  should  n't, 
for  I  felt  her  grave  between  us.  Then  like  Job 


BROOK      SUNFLOWER 


A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY  26 1 

in  his  sorrow,  I  went  out  to  dwell  in  the  cliffs  of 
the  valleys,  in  caves  of  the  earth,  and  in  rocks, — 
to  become  a  'brother  to  dragons  and  a  companion 
to  owls/  Not  that  there  were  even  exactly  drag- 
ons hereabouts  (nothing  worse  than  catamounts), 
but  I  dreaded  folks  and  found  the  ice  storms 
kinder  than  their  jedgments,  and  God  more  often 
encouragin'  and  to  be  met  with  in  walkin'  in  the 
wood  path  in  the  cool  o'  the  day,  than  restrained 
and  havin'  meanin's  that  he  never  meant  put  into 
his  mouth  up  in  the  meetin'  house. 

"After  maybe  ten  years  of  hearin'  from  Eph 
now  and  then,  the  letters  bein'  from  first  one 
state  and  then  another,  he  wrote  he  'd  settled  in 
Calif orny  and  was  growin'  grapes  for  wine-makin'. 
Then  for  a  year  he  wrote  often  and  pestered  me 
to  come  out  to  him.  But  I  wa'n't  constituted 
to  transplant  and  leave  my  haunts  here,  and  her 
up  yonder,  so  I  sent  him  a  bit  of  money,  promised 
more,  and  told  him,  so  's  to  make  him  feel  I  was 
trustful,  and  not  to  hurt  his  pride,  if  he  did  n't 
need  it,  to  keep  it  for  me. 

"He  wrote  back  and  said  he  was  well-to-do, 
and  would  turn  any  money  I  sent  to  account  to 
make  me  rich!  It  sounded  just  so  like  him,  but  I 
did  n't  let  myself  doubt  his  word,  and  next  I  knew, 


262  A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY 

one  Christmas  he  sent  me  a  good  gun,  my  fish- 
ing-rod another,  and  then  a  box  o'  wine  —  that 
sick  school-marm  that  loved  posies  that  I  told 
you  of  got  most  of  it — and  so  on.  Then  I  did  n't 
hear  so  often,  though  I  sent  him  a  trifle  once  a 
year.  A  couple  o'  years  ago  he  wrote  he  was 
married,  been  married  quite  a  spell,  but  never  said 
when  or  to  who;  and  now  it  's  forty  years  next 
Spring  since  he  went  away,  and  Ephraim's  dead." 

Time  o'  Year  paused,  went  over  to  the  well, 
drew  up  a  bucket,  filled  the  tin  dipper,  offered  it 
to  me,  then  took  a  long  draught,  replaced  the 
faded  flower  in  the  buttonhole  of  his  shirt  with  a 
fresh  pink,  and  returned  to  the  chopping -block 
again. 

"His  bein'  dead  ain't  all.  He  did  do  well  in 
grape  farmin'  and  minin'  ventures  here  and  there, 
and  his  partner  sent  me  on  a  letter,  to  make  sure 
I  was  alive;  and  when  I  answered  it  sayin'  I  was, 
and  askin'  particulars,  back  come  a  check  for  all 
I  'd  scraped  together  and  sent  Eph,  swelled  out  as 
big  and  unknowable  as  a  thin  face  that  's  stung 
by  bees.  He  had  laid  it  out  to  profit  for  me,  me 
who  was  half  doubtin'  all  the  while,  and  he  'd  fixed 
things  so  I  'd  get  it  anyhow." 

I  could  see  the  veins  in  the  old  man's  forehead 


A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY  263 

knot  and  his  speech  struggle  in  his  throat  as,  to 
conceal  it,  he  drained  the  dipper  again.  Then, 
coming  back,  he  fumbled  in  a  leather  wallet  worn 
inside  his  shirt,  and  drew  out  a  strip  of  paper 
bearing  the  five  figures  that  would  not  only  place 
Time  o'  Year  beyond  need,  but  make  him  a  per- 
sonage among  the  neighboring  farming  folk. 

As  I  was  about  to  tell  my  pleasure,  he  raised 
his  hand.  "'Sh!  that's  not  all.  I  ain't  reached 
the  real  trouble  yet.  He  was  married,  it  turned 
out,  more  'n  twenty  years  ago,  and  he  's  left  a 
grown-up  darter,  and  last  night  the  carrier  brought 
this  letter,  and  was  terrible  curious  about  it."  And 
from  his  pocket  Time  o' Year  drew  a  square  en- 
velope of  lilac  paper,  heavily  scented,  and  addressed 
in  a  bold,  nervous  hand,  his  name  prefixed  with 
Squire,  and  "Hill  Crest  Farm"  added  to  the  usual 
address.  It  read: 

DEAR  GRANDFATHER: 

Now  that  dad  is  dead,  I  have  no  people  but  you.  Dad 
married  ma  right  out  of  the  convent,  where  she,  having  no 
people,  was  left  a  baby.  When  I  was  born,  she  died,  and  I 
lived  at  the  vineyard  with  dad  until  it  was  time  to  send  me 
off  to  school  to  be  rubbed  up  a  bit,  like  the  other  girls,  and 
then  I  went  for  four  years  to  San  Francisco,  and  only  got 
back  a  year  ago. 


264  A    COMPOSITE     FAMILY 

Last  Winter  when  father  got  ill,  and  we  went  over  to  the 
beach  and  stayed  in  a  hotel,  then  I  found  it  was  just  the 
right  thing  to  come  from  eastern  people.  There  were  girls 
that  scored  high  from  having  come  from  fighters  in  that  old 
shindy  between  England  and  the  States  —  Daughters  of  the 
Revolution,  they  called  themselves,  and  wore  pins  according 
to  the  States  they  claimed,  as  proud  as  peacocks. 

Dad  said  your  grandfather  was  a  general  in  that  war,  and 
that  he  would  get  me  the  papers  proving  it,  but  he  died  be- 
fore he  did  it.  Now,  grandfather,  I  'm  going  to  marry 
daddy's  young  partner,  who  was  raised  east,  though  his 
grandfather  did  n't  fight,  and  I  don't  want  anything  you  can 
buy  me  for  a  wedding  present,  because  I  've  enough  money. 
But  I  do  want  you  to  fix  me  up  those  papers  and  send  me  a 
few  bits  of  the  family  silver  and  a  picture  of  you,  the  oil 
painting  dad  says  hung  in  the  dining-room,  and  perhaps  the 
family  Bible  with  the  old  silver  clasps,  if  you  can  spare  it, 
—  something  to  show,  you  know,  for  family  relics  when  we 
have  the  eastern  crowd  out  to  see  the  vineyards.  And  do 
write  me  about  yourself.  How  many  hands  do  you  keep,  and 
do  you  reap  with  steam  or  horse  power  ? 

Some  day  I  'm  going  to  surprise  you  with  a  visit  and 
coax  you  back  here  with  me,  next  Spring  maybe.  How  do 
you  like  my  last  picture  ?  It  looks  sad  in  a  black  dress,  but 
I  'm  really  never  sad,  and  I  love  pretty,  fluffy  clothes.  Adieu. 
Don't  forget  the  papers  and  the  silver. 

Your  affec.  ALOIS. 

Daddy  said  Lois  was  his  mother's  name  and  Adele  was 
my  mother's,  so  he  pieced  them  together  for  mine— A-lois,  my 
patron  saint. 


NEW 


ASTER 


A    COMPOSITE     FAMILY  265 

The  photograph  was  of  a  girl  of  perhaps  eigh- 
teen, with  a  strong,  oval  face,  black  hair  and  eyes, 
speaking  of  Spanish  blood,  and  nostrils  that  curved 
like  those  of  a  spirited  horse.  I  gained  time  by 
looking  at  it  a  moment,  and  then  faced  Time  o' 
Year,  who  was  gazing  at  me  with  a  pitifully  sad, 
hunted  expression  in  his  gray  eyes. 

"I  don't  mind  that  she  's  a  Romanist  —  the 
woods  has  driv'  such  distinguishin'  feelin'  out  o' 
me — but  why  need  he  have  made  out  things  to  her 
so  differint,  so  much  better  'n  they  be  that  they  '11 
give  him  the  lie  after  he  's  gone,  even  if  I  say 
nothing,"  he  whispered,  half  to  me  and  half  to  the 
river.  "We  never  had  family  silver  except  six 
teaspoons  and  the  little  tea-caddy  that  came  from 
Lois'  grandaunt.  The  Bible  never  had  clasps,  and 
it  was  hers  and  I  can't  give  it;  there  's  no  oil  por- 
trait. My  grandfather  never  was  a  general,  jist  a 
plain  soldier.  He  did  fight  with  Putnam,  though, 
and  fit  good  too,  and  so  did  her  great-grandfather." 

"Send  her  the  record  of  two  fighting  ancestors, 
to  make  up  for  the  lack  of  one  general,"  I  said,  the 
pathos  of  it  all  dimming  my  eyes.  "Have  the  papers 
made  out  and  I  will  have  them  copied  on  a  piece 
of  parchment  with  a  border  of  wood  flowers.  Then 
you  can  make  a  frame  for  them  yourself  from 


266 


A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY 
I* 


birch-bark.  Send  her  the  tea- 
caddy  and  that  odd  mahogany 
chair  that  stands  inside  the 
cabin  door,  but  say  you  do 
not  wish  to  give  away  the 
Bible.  As  for  the  portrait, 
I  will  take  a  picture  of  you 
with  your  rod  and  fishing  - 
basket  which  will  neither  lie 


A    COMPOSITE     FAMILY  267 

nor  shame  you,  and  it  will  please  her.  As  for 
the  rest,  we  must  think  it  out,  but  this  is  enough 
to  start  with  ;  and  there  is  no  need  of  making  a 
mystery  of  the  fact  that  you  have  a  granddaughter 
who  wishes  to  join  the  Society  of  the  Daughters 
of  the  Revolution,  for  that  is  a  matter  as  well  un- 
derstood among  these  hills  as  elsewhere.  Have 
the  papers  ready  the  next  time  I  come,  and  that 
1  fidgety  young  lady '  with  the  flowery  hat  will 
gladly  print  and  decorate  them  for  you,  I  am 
sure." 

"There  's  nobody  like  womenfolks  for  either 
scenting  out  trouble  or  curing  it,"  said  Time  o' 
Year,  a  more  peaceful  expression  replacing  the 
pained  one  which  his  face  had  worn.  "And  as 
you  say,  backed  by  Scripter,  as  it  were,  mending 
part  of  the  evil  is  sufficient  for  one  day  and  a  part 
of  the  lie  can  be  eased  up  without  sharing  it." 

"Yes,  and  another  part,  too,  and  honestly;  for 
do  you  remember  that  you  were  living  in  the  farm- 
house and  not  the  cabin  when  Ephraim  went  away? 
He  knew  nothing  about  that  ;  so  in  his  loneliness 
he  must  have  looked  back  at  his  home  and  mother 
until  its  comforts  and  grandeur  seemed  far  greater 
than  they  were,  the  fields  broader  and  the  hill- 
crest  it  stood  on  far  higher.  Perhaps,  dear  old 


268  A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY 

friend,  when  we  have  the  wedding  gifts  ready  to 
go,  you  may  see  your  way  to  living  at  the  farm 
again." 

"Yes,  an'  back  up  Eph  's  well  as  I  can, — though 
it  's  only  his  memory, — as  she  asked,  help  him  by 
halvin*  that  last  mistake  that  mebby  came  through 
homesickness,"  said  Time  o'  Year,  catching  his 
breath  as  he  moved  slowly  toward  the  river  path, 
desiring  to  be  alone. 

I  sat  still  a  moment,  looking  across  the  meadows 
glowing  with  bright  flowers,  before  I  went  to  re- 
lease Nell. 

We  lingered  on  the  river  road  awhile  before 
going  over  the  hills,  for  the  breeze  was  taking  a 
noon  nap.  The  New  England  Aster  in  its  first 
freshness  bloomed  in  its  favorite  haunt,  the  moist 
edge  between  road  bank  and  river.  What  a  strik- 
ing plant  this  is  when  seen  standing  in  uncrowded 
groups  close  to  the  water,  its  rough  green  leaves 
veiling  the  stout  stem  which,  at  the  height  of  four 
or  five  feet,  is  crowned  with  clusters  of  rich  purple 
flowers,  giving  a  perfect  foreground  to  the  river 
picture  that  disappeared  in  the  shadows  of  a  green 
cave,  whose  walls  were  low -arching  trees.  Surely 
this  is  the  most  admirable  of  all  the  Asters! 


A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY  269 

Along  the  road  that  traverses  the  Hemlocks  the 
various  shade-loving  Asters  kept  us  company, — the 
familiar  White  Wood  with  rather  heart  -  shaped, 
toothed  leaves  and  white  ray- flowers,  and  the  tall, 
white,  Flat  Topped,  with  sparse  ray -flowers  gathered 
in  flat  heads  like  Yarrow.  On  the  dry  and  rocky 
ground  in  the  Hemlock  woods  themselves,  a 
few  Composites  of  several  tribes  had  found 
footing,  and  a  great  bunch  of  the  dark- 
stemmed  Stout  Ragged 
Goldenrod  filled  a  gap 
between  the  Hemlock 
trunks  through  which 
the  distant  waters  of 
the  Sound  were  visi- 
ble, making  withal  a 
charming  picture. 

By  the  time 
we  were  over 
the   hills,    the 
sun  was  veiled  in  gray 
haze,  and   the    breeze 
abroad  again,  bringing 
a    message    that    a 
long  line  of   surf  was 
murmuring  to  the  beach,  the  promise 


270 


A    COMPOSITE     FAMILY 


of  a  cold  August   storm   before    the    next   high  tide 
should  reach  its  utmost  sand  mark. 

Not   alone  in   Sunflower  Lane  and  by  the  way- 
sides do  -  the   Composites   throng;     the   beach-crest, 
well    within   reach   of    the   high   storm    tides, 
has   its  colony   also,  where  lives  the  suc- 
culent  Seaside   Goldenrod  which 
may    be    easily    identified    by    its 
star  -  shaped     flower -heads     and 
thick   leaves.     There    the  wheel 
tracks    in    the    road    to    the 
beach  cottages  are   outlined   by 
the    evergreen  -  looking  bushes 
of    White    Wreath     Aster 
with    bristling    leaves    and 
crowded     flowers,    while    on 
the  beach  edge   itself    and   on 
drifted  sand  islands  all  through 
the    Sea   Gardens    the   dark 
wands    of    Blazing    Star,    set 
with    bright    purple,    thistle - 
like    flowers,  lure    one  into    the   re- 
gion where  the  Fragrant    Everlasting 
mingles  with  the  purplish  white  flow- 
ers   of    the    dwarf    Pine    Starwort    that 
lodges   in   the    grass,  the   leaves   sugges- 


A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY  271 

tive  of  prickly  evergreens   like  those  of   the   White 
Wreath  Aster. 

Oh,  those  Gardens  of  the  Sea  with  their  lavish 
yield  of  beauty,  spread  forth  freely  for 
the  seeing  and  the  gathering! 

The   glowing    flower   colors   sweep 
broadly,   even    as    the  waves  on 
the     beach     beyond     the    sand 
crest,  over  the  rich  black  earth 
that  is  in  one  spot  brackish  and 
marshy    and    in    another    dry    and 
crumbling,  the  dividing  line  being, 
perhaps,   merely   a   ridge  of  wind- 
drifted    sand. 

The  Sea  Gardens  are  the  Market 
Places  of  the  Flower  Kingdom,  in 
even  a  greater  degree  than  the  way- 
sides, for  owing  to  this  blending  of 
moist  and  dry  land,  plants  of  divers 
natures  find  footing  and  stand  well- 
nigh  side  by  side, — Beach  Plum  and  Service  Berry, 
Thistle  and  Water  Plantain,  Wood  Lily  and  Sun- 
drops;  while  Rose  Mallows,  Wild  Rice,  Salt  Marsh 
Fleabane  and  Samphire  wade  into  the  water  on  the 
muddy  side  of  a  tide  channel,  and  on  the  higher 
sandy  edge  perch  Fragrant  Everlasting,  Knotweed, 


272  A    COMPOSITE    FAMILY 

Beach  Heather,  Rabbit's  Foot  Clover  and  a  wealth 
of  Asters; — all  growing  in  patches  and  long  trails, 
as  if  these  gardens  were  the  Magician's  nurseries 
for  the  testing  and  proving  his  wild -flower  crop. 

As  the  tide  rose,  the  sky  grew  more  leaden,  and 
the  surf  called  louder,  the  air  became  chilly,  and 
that  night  a  fire  on  the  hearth  greeted  the  master, 
twenty  degrees  having  slid  down  the  mercury  in 
the  thermometer  since  noontime.  Surely  the  New 
England  climate,  mingling  Autumn  with  Summer, 
like  all  other  things  of  the  Magician's  realm,  man, 
beast,  bird,  and  flower,  is  a  Composite! 


X 

WAYFARERS 


MANY  moods  lead  us  to  seek  the  flower 
in  the  landscape;  as  many  as  the  months, 
and  like  them,  grouping  naturally  into 
four  seasons.  First  the  awakening,  the  mood  inti- 
mate, that  draws  to  close  contact  and  minute  in- 
spection, in  contrast  to  the  mood  impersonal,  that 
sees  from  afar  and  is  satisfied  with  wide  expanse 
and  general  effect.  The  insatiable  ranging  mood 
implies  a  dash  of  sporting  blood  in  the  veins;  while 
the  passive  mood  of  the  mere  spectator,  for  whom 
the  passing  of  the  flower  pageant  is  an  unexacting 
amusement,  is  by  far  the  most  usual  of  all. 

As   man,   in   the   making   of   highways  and   the 
threading  of  grassy  lanes,   has    invaded   the   haunts 
of   the  wild  flowers,   these   in    turn,   true   to   their 
R  273 


274  WAYFAREllS 

native  soil,  surviving  the  slightly  changed  conditions, 
have  become  wayfarers,  thronging  the  shaded  banks, 
open  borders,  and  runnels  beside  travelled  roads, 
according  to  the  locality  traversed.  There,  pro- 
tected by  fences  from  plow  and  brush -hook,  they 
form  a  wayside  calendar  of  the  year,  a  guide  to 
the  happenings  in  wood,  field,  and  swamp,  that 
those  who  may  not  go  afield  on  foot  may  ride  and 
read. 

A  roll-call  of  the  wayfarers  that  can  be  found 
by  the  wheel-tracks  that  back  the  sand  dunes,  bor- 
dering the  raised  road  across  the  Sea  Gardens,  hedge 
Sunflower  Lane,  follow  the  turnpike  through  Lone- 
town,  and  round  about  the  Den  District  to  Tree- 
bridge,  would  be  to  repeat  the  list  of  the  entire 
local  flora,  from  the  vagrant  Tansy  of  waste  places  to 
the  delicate  Maidenhair  Fern,  half  concealed  by  way- 
side bushes; — save  perhaps  some  of  the  rarer  Or- 
chids, and  the  plants  of  deep  bogs,  through  which, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  if  roads  are  built,  the  neces- 
sary drainage  changes  the  characteristics  of  growth. 
Many  garden  flowers  also  make  their  escape  from 
cultivation  first  as  wayfarers,  having  been  trans- 
ported by  seed  or  root  in  earth  used  for  filling  gul- 
lies or  the  space  between  road  and  fence,  from 
thence  travelling  across  lots  to  complete  freedom 


WAYFARERS  275 

that,   after   a  generation  or  so,  places  them   in  the 
ranks  of  naturalized  plants. 

To  find  the  smaller  flowers,  whether  in  wood 
or  by  the  wayside,  the  quest  must  be  on  foot,  but 
many  an  entrancing  flower  landscape  has  come  in 
my  range  when  sauntering  with 
a  comfortable  horse  along  the 
byways;  and  these  pictures  are 
the  more  sympathetic  from  the 
human  interest  that  the  bit  of 
road  lends  to  them,  for  the 
vistas  opened  by  it  through  the 
trees  give  a  depth  of  focus 
wholly  lacking  in  the  un- 
cleared wood  or  rolling 
meadow.  Also,  a  wide 
knowledge  of  the  berry- 
bearing  shrubs  and  smaller 
trees  of  any  locality  may 
be  had  merely  from  fol- 
lowing the  trail  of  an 
average  country  road  the 
season  through. 

In  May  the  Shad- 
bush  and  various 
Thorns,  together  with 


276  WAYFARERS 

the  native  Apple,  Dogwoods,  and  Viburnums,  com- 
bine to  draw  the  eye  from  the  low,  moist  woods, 
where  the  leafage  begins  to  shut  out  the  sun  that 
at  the  first  coming  of  Spring  awakened  the  Marsh 
Marigold  and  Adder's  Tongue. 

PussyWillow,  the  pet  name  of  the  Glaucous  Wil- 
low, Salix  discolor,  is  the  first  catkin  to  give  a  hint 
of  Spring  in  the  uppergrowth,  but  its  little  fur  pads 
seem  better  calculated  to  greet  a  March  snowstorm 
than  a  melting  April  shower.  At  this  time  the 
faithful  yellow  wands  of  Willow  trees  of  river  banks 
and  along  wet  waysides  are  the  olive  branches  that 
pledge  a  season  of  peace  from  Winter  storms  before 
the  snow  has  wholly  retreated  and  left  the  earth 
free. 

Shadbush,  then,  is  the  first  wayfaring  shrub  to 
wear  a  complete  flower  of  really  decorative  quality, 
the  delicate  down  upon  the  unfolding  leaf,  with  its 
suggestion  of  hoar  frost,  being  as  attractive  as  the 
blossom  itself. 

The  Thorns,  both  as  ornamental  shrubs  and 
small  trees,  may  be  seen  along  brush -edged  roads 
at  any  time  from  the  opening  of  the  Yellow - 
fruited  Dwarf  Thorn  the  first  week  in  May,  until 
June,  when  the  flower -clusters  of  the  Cockspur 
Thorn,  a  species  which  often  reaches  tree  height, 


WAYFARERS  277 

call  attention  to  its  stout  spikes,  that  sometimes 
grow  four  inches  in  length,  serving  to  identify  it. 
Of  some  half  dozen  native  species  of  Thorn  that 
may  be  found  in  byways,  the  Red -fruited  is  perhaps 
the  most  striking,  both  from  its  flowers  and  orna- 
mental fruit,  while  the  White  Hawthorn  or  Eng- 
lish May  is  to  be  seen  in  the  Lonetown  region 
guarding  gateless  gaps  in  old  stone  walls,  to- 
gether with  the  Lilacs,  telling  the  story  of  van- 
ished homes. 

The  foliage  of  the  Hawthorn  is  always  crisp  and 
clear-cut,  and  the  flowers  well  set  and  symmetrical. 
Where  a  mass  of  the  bushes,  untrimmed  and  throw- 
ing out  long  sprays,  forms  a  natural  hedge,  the  effect 
of  a  solid  barrier  is  lent  to  the  landscape — an  effect 
wholly  different  from  that  given  by  either  Dogwoods, 
Viburnums,  or  Elder  flowers,  and  making  one  wish 
that  the  climate  would  allow  the  Hawthorn's  uni- 
versal use  to  make  in  America  living  fences  such  as 
border  even  the  railways  of  the  Old  World. 

The  Choke  Cherry  is  also  frequently  a  wayfarer, 
and  though,  when  untrimmed,  it  grows  ten  feet  in 
height,  its  constant  repression  by  the  roadside  stub 
scythe  usually  keeps  it  a  dwarf  bush.  In  blooming 
time  its  foliage,  which  is  of  the  plum -leaf  type, 
alone  separates  it  at  a  casual  glance  from  the  Black 


278 


WAYFARERS 


Wild  Cherry  of  cordial -yielding  fruit  and  poisonous 
leaf,  for  the  flowers  are  similar.  But  whosoever 
in  early  August  mistakes  the  one  for  the  other, 
and  eats  the  dark  red,  translucent  fruit,  will  dis- 
cover the  mistake,  and  learn  also  at  the  same  time 
from  what  the  plant  derives  its  name,  by  promptly 
choking,  as  poor  Flower  Hat  did;  because,  though  I 
had  warned  her,  she  could  not  believe  that  any- 
thing that  "looked  so  well  could  be  so  perfectly 
horrible — quite  as  bad  as  the  nitrate  of  silver  that 
I  had  my  throat  swabbed  with  last  winter." 

Her  second  experience  with  the  deceptive  fruit 
of  the  Wild  Crab  Apple,  a  beautiful  but  astringent 
member  of  a  kindred  family,  was  equally  distressing. 


WAYFARERS  279 

Two  Apples  may  be  called  wayfarers  hereabout. 
The  common  Apple  has  escaped  so  freely  from 
orchards,  to  grow,  ungrafted,  under  the  protection  of 
old  walls  that  it  has  become  quite  a  tree  of  the  high- 
ways. Though  the  fruit  is  bitter,  the  flowers  grow  in 
great  profusion,  and  are  pinker  than  those  on  grafted 
trees.  The  more  slender  tree  of  the  truly  Wild 
American  Crab  Apple  is  a  decided  landscape  flower 
of  roadside  tangles  and  light  wood  edges.  The 
blossoms  of  this  Crab  are  deep  pink,  the  buds  be- 
ing often  tipped  with  carmine.  The  exquisite  per- 
fume has  a  distinctly  wild  quality,  a  fragrance  that 
is  shared  by  the  small  yellow  apple  itself,  though 
the  fabled  Dead  Sea  fruit  could  not  have  been  more 
disappointing  than  the  taste  of  this  Wild  Crab.  I 
have  known  even  Nell,  after  whinnying  to  call  my 
attention  to  a  shower  of  the  apples  lying  like  yel- 
low leaves  inside  a  fence  out  of  her  reach,  to  drop 
the  half -chewed  fruit  with  an  impatient  puckering 
of  the  lips  and  a  shake  of  the  head  that  plainly  said 
in  horse  talk,  "How  could  you  play  such  a  stone  - 
for-bread  trick  upon  your  aged  friend?" 

To  May  and  June  also  belong  the  Dog- 
woods, Viburnums,  and  both  the  Red-  and  Black- 
berried  Elders.  In  these  months,  to  travel  the  road 
from  the  Lilac  House  past  Tree -bridge  to  the 


280 


WAYFARERS 


Forge  Mill  Pond,  is  to  pass  between  open  ranks  of 
shrubs  that  rival  in  beauty  anything  that  the  garden 
can  produce.  Hereabout  the  Dogwoods  belong  to 
the  latter  half  of  May,  when  the  showy  White - 
flowering  Cornel  by  the  roadside  gives  the  signal 
for  the  rest  of  the  family  to  unfurl.  The  alter- 
nate-leaved Cornel,  with  green  bark,  has  flat 
clusters  of  white  flowers,  followed  by  hand- 
some berries,  also  white.  Set  upon  coral 
red  stems,  it  grows  in  clumps  by 
this  road,  together  with  the  Silky  Cor- 
nel with  its  purplish  twigs,  rounder 
bunches  of  white  flowers  and  lead- 
blue  berries  that  are  of 
the  whortleberry  shape 
and  broader  than  long; 
while  in  early  June  the 
brilliant  twigs  of  the  Red 
Osier  Dogwood,  in  wet 
spots  and  runnels, 
bear  white  flower - 
clusters  and  white 
berries.  All  the  Dogwoods 
have  small  flowers  that,  like 
the  composites,  are  rendered 
conspicuous  by  massing,  while 


WAYFARERS  28 1 

the  berries  are  of  varied  hues,  and  as  they  remain 
throughout  the  season  are  an  important  means  of 
identification. 

The  two  common  Spireas,  the  pink  Steeple 
Bush  and  the  white  Meadow  Sweet,  are  also  way- 
farers, Steeple  Bush  choosing  wet  places,  while 
Meadow  Sweet  as  often  hedges  tumble  -  down 
fences  with  its  fragrant  feathery  plumes. 

The  Red- berried  Elder  has  very  graceful,  clear-cut 
compound  leaves,  ending  in  sharp  points.  Its  flower  - 
clusters  are  long,  somewhat  like  small  bunches  of 
whitish  Lilacs,  while  those  of  the  Black -berried  spe- 
cies are  flat.  This  Red-berried  Elder  becomes  a 
conspicuous  wayfarer  at  the  time  that  unfolding 
Beech  leaves  hang  in  velvety  limpness  and  the 
Hobble  Bush  or  Wayfaring  Tree  of  the  smooth, 
purplish  bark  is  only  beginning  to  reveal  the  white 
in  the  buds  that  will  soon  open  into  flat  bunches 
of  flowers,  with  florets  resembling  those  of  the  gar- 
den Snowball. 

Whenever  the  road  divides  shady  banks,  the 
Maple -leaved  Cornel  shows  its  clearly -marked  foli- 
age, that  wears  such  lovely  shades  of  pink  in  the 
late  Summer  and  Autumn  as  to  win  for  the  plant 
a  place  in  the  landscape  far  beyond  the  deserts  of 
either  its  inconspicuous  white  flowers  or  its  black 


282  WAYFARERS 

fruit.  Of  the  common  Viburnums,  the  Arrow- 
Wood,  with  gray  branches,  white -clustered  flowers 
of  the  Dogwood  type,  and  blue  fruit,  shading  to 
black,  and  the  Sweet  Viburnum  are  the  most  no- 
ticeable. 

Sweet  Viburnum,  locally  known  as  Nanny  Berry, 
is  an  extremely  handsome  shrub,  when  left  undis- 
turbed often  growing  into  a  tree  of  twenty -five  or 
thirty  feet  in  height,  covered  with  shining,  saw- 
edged  leaves,  and  in  late  May  topped  with  a  pro- 
fusion of  flat  bunches  of  fragrant,  small,  white 
flowers.  The  growth  is  very  thick  and  close,  the 
twigs  being  somewhat  spiny,  so  that  Black  Thorn 
is  among  its  local  names. 

This  habit  of  growth  has  been  noticed  by  the 
thrifty  Hungarians  who  are  venturing  into  Lone- 
town,  and  I  have  seen  a  chicken  pen,  fenced  by 
the  straight  bushes,  set  a  few  inches  apart  and 
bound  together  by  a  couple  of  strands  of  copper 
wire,  evidently  dropped  from  the  outfit  of  the 
long  distance  telephone  company,  in  some  of  its 
wanderings  across  country. 

The  Sweet  Viburnum  is  easily  transplanted,  and 
succeeds  finely  if  deep,  rich  soil  is  given  it,  being 
not  only  a  shrub  of  great  beauty,  but  an  attraction 
to  birds  from  its  edible  fruit.  In  traversing  hillside 


WAYFARERS  283 

roads  and  looking  over  distant  meadows  whose 
edges  catch  the  rich  wash  of  cultivated  fields,  close 
hedges  of  Sweet  Viburnum  can  be  seen,  making 
natural  fences  suggestive  of  English  Hawthorn. 

"I  don't  see  how  folks  can  get  out  o'  takin' 
notice  o'  posies,  even  if  they  never  goes  off  turn- 
pikes, or  sets  a  foot  out  o'  wagons,"  said  Time  o' 
Year  one  day  back  in  June,  as  he  paused  to  chat 
while  he  was  crossing  the  Tree -bridge  road  a  lit- 
tle above  the  old  cider  mill.  His  buttonhole  held 
that  morning  a  bunch  of  Wild  Rosebuds,  the 
long  green  calyx -points  fringing  the  carmine -pink 
that  peeped  between,  while  as  he  spoke  he  pressed 
with  his  foot  the  loosened  soil  about  the  roots  of 
a  plant  of  yellow  Hop  Clover  that  had  been  partly 
washed  from  its  position  on  the  roadbank. 

"Take  jest  common  Clovers,  now,  not  growin' 
in  fields  for  a  crop,  but  strayed  out  by  themselves 
here  along  the  road.  There  's  lots  to  see  in  'em, — 
differences  o'  leaf  and  blossoms,  and  it  must  be 
allowed  few  plants  is  so  purty  and  neat  and  useful 
all  to  onct. 

"What  draws  Clover  along  the  edges  o'  the  road 
so?  I  reckon  it  's  the  wash  o'  the  road  dung  that 
blows  around  and  settles,  and  then  the  leaf  ashes 


284  WAYFARERS 

on  top  o'  that.  Somebody  's  allus  firing  leaves 
along  roads,  and  Clover  's  jest  bound  ter  foller 
ashes. 

"Did  yer  ever  notice  now  how  this  Yaller  Clover 
has  an  upward  pointin'  narrer  leaf  that  's  grassy  to 
the  feel?  The  White  one's  leaf  is  rounder  and 
opens  out  more,  though  it  feels  stiff  and  crispy, 
too.  But  Pink  Clover  's  got  soft,  downy  leaves  o' 
several  shapes,  and  the  leaf  pieces  are  mostly 
marked  out  with  lighter  green  as  fine  as  posies. 
Then  there  's  the  little,  dry-stalked  kind,  that  's 
no  account  for  fodder  and  grows  up  in  the  sand 
wash  o'  top  of  the  hill,  that  's  got  kind  o'  furry  - 
colored  flowers  soft  as  Pussy  Willers.  Yes,  there  's 
a  sight  to  be  seen  even  in  Clovers  !" 

Time  o' Year  speaks  truly;  there  is  much  beauty 
both  of  detail  and  effect  to  be  found  by  the  way- 
side, that  for  various  reasons  is  passed  over,  the 
chief  being  because  it  is  close  at  hand.  To  the 
usual  traveller  Clovers  and  grasses  are  merely 
species  of  fodder  weeds,  from  their  location;  but 
every  plant  that  lends  color  to  even  the  ground- 
work of  the  landscape  should  win  admiration. 

The  dwarf,  sand-growing  Clover,  known  as 
Rabbit's  Foot, —  as  Time  o' Year  says,  "soft  as 
Pussy  Willers,"  —  is  a  most  unique  little  specimen 


WAYFARERS 


285 


(I  had  almost  said  creature,  so  like  caterpillar  wool 
or  soft  fur  is  the  color  and  texture  of  its  flower - 
heads),  and  is  largely  overlooked,  though  it  blos- 
soms all  Summer  in 
places  where  little  else  is 
found  but  the  un- 
lovely Tick  Tre- 
foils and  Sand 
Knotweeds. 

"Then    take  all 
kinds  o'  thorny  and 
bramble     flowers 
that    grows  along 
turnpikes,"  con-        ^3^° 
tinued    Time   o' 
Year,     "and     there's 
picters    for    yer,    painted 

out  and  framed.  Jest  look  at  the  big  High -bush 
Blackberries  yonder,  the  prickles  all  hid  under  a 
load  o'  white  bloom,  and  these  Low -bush  ones 
climbin'  up  the  bank,  not  to  speak  o'  Thimble - 
berry  canes  growin'  up  between  those  old  millstones 
on  the  south  side. 

"As  fer  Roses  and  White  Elder  blows,  come 
three  weeks  more  and  no  one  with  eyes  can  go  on 
the  forge  crossroad  and  not  be  struck  of  a  heap. 


286 


WAYFARERS 


There  's  prickly  low -bushed  Roses  by  the  wheel  - 
tracks,  and  goin'  up  the  bank,  all  dressed  out  in 
pink  that  's  e'ena'most  red.  Then  taller  bushes 
back  along  the  fence  —  their  flowers  are  lighter,  with 
longer  stems  and  less  thorns.  The  White -flowerin' 

Elder    backs     'em    up, 
and  then  goes  off  alone 
across    lots   where    the 
young  Locusts  grow,  jest 
hedgin'  the  ground  in  fit 
for  gardins. 

"If  it  's  out  o' 
season  for  Roses 
and  such,  there  's 
always  Wild  Carrot 
—  that  's  a  plague 
straight  through  un- 
less yer  take  conso- 
lation in  observin'  its 
flower  bunches.  It  has  as 
many  spokes  as  an  umbrella, 
that  move  up  and  down  much 
the  same,  the  bunches  bein' 
nice  and  sort  o'  slope -topped  when  in  full  bloom, 
then  flattenin'  and  curlin'  up  outward  as  it  makes 
seed,  for  all  the  world  like  an  umbrella  that  's 


WILD      BERGAMO T 


WAYFARERS  287 

turned  inside  out  and  wrecked.  I  tell  yer,  if  yer 
want  to  find  some  nice  posies  and  good  sniffin's  by 
the  way,  jest  go  up  the  Glen  Road  toward  George- 
town some  day  'long  'n  July.  There  's  Rose- 
flowered  Raspberries  up  there,  settin'  between  the 
rocks,  and  a  strong-smellin'  purple  flower,  that  I 
can't  name,  only  to  say  it  's  shaped  like  Bee  Balm, 
a-growin'  along  the  fences  the  same  as  if  a  gar- 
den of  it  had  broke  loose;  and  jest  beyant  there  's 
a  lot  of  yaller  Wild  Senna,  flowers  that  look  like 
tall  Pa'tridge  Peas  growin'  in  long  bunches." 

Thus  admonished,  and  being  in  that  neighbor- 
hood at  the  right  time,  we  turned  Nell  into  the 
Glen  Road,  which,  before  entering  the  woods,  ran 
for  a  space  between  waste  fields  fenced  by  tumble- 
down stone  walls,  with  occasional  openings  guarded 
by  moss-grown  chestnut  or  cedar  bars,  so  long 
disused  that  Wild  Grapes  and  vines  of  climbing 
Bittersweet  or  Waxwork  were  using  them  as 
trellises. 

The  wayside  growth  was  luxuriant,  and  typical 
of  the  season,  but  offered  no  novelties  until  the 
eye,  following  the  fence  line,  was  arrested  by  a 
flowery  bank  of  unusual  color,  not  blue,  nor  pur- 
ple, exactly,  but  a  pale  combination  of  the  two,  a 
sort  of  rosy  suffusion  blending  with  it. 


288  WAYFARERS 

A  nearer  view  showed  slender  green  stems  two 
feet  or  so  in  height,  set  with  pairs  of  thin,  rather 
slender  pointed  leaves,  each  stem  crowned  by  a  head 
of  flowers,  in  shape  resembling  the  red  Bee  Balm, 
as  Time  o'  Year  had  said,  but  of  a  color  difficult 
to  name,  as  it  appeared  under  the  varied  play  of 
light  and  shade  before  the  pasture  bars  where  the 
plants  had  established  themselves,  with  the  evident 
intention  of  some  time  appropriating  the  entire  field 
within,  as  the  outposts  could  now  be  seen  here  and 
there  between  the  white -flowered  Moth  Mulleins. 

This  flower,  in  the  hand,  proved  to  be  Wild 
Bergamot  of  pungent  odor,  one  of  the  Mint  tribe, 
but  in  the  landscape,  set  amid  varied  greens,  and 
separated  by  the  background  of  gray,  lichen -cov- 
ered bars  from  wild  fields  dyed  with  the  dull  red 
of  Sheep  Sorrel,  it  made  another  of  the  many  pic- 
tures whose  color  can  be  retained  only  by  the 
memory. 

A  few  rods  farther  on,  the  wayside  growths 
changed  again,  showing  the  effects  of  sandy  soil 
and  a  location  that  had  once  been  wooded,  and 
where  now  fragrant  foliage  made  up  for  the  lack 
of  flowers.  On  each  side  of  the  narrowed  way, 
Sweet  Fern  and  Bayberry- bushes  touched  the 
wheels,  yielding  their  wholesome  perfume  freely. 


WAYFARERS 


289 


Both  of  these  woody  shrubs  belong  to  the  same 
family,  but  while  the  Sweet  Fern,  with  its  scal- 
loped leaves,  grows  only  to  the  height  of  two  or 
three  feet,  the  Bayberry  may  attain  a  height  of  six 
or  eight,  its  clean,  smooth -edged  leaves  looking  as 
if  they  ought  to  be  evergreen,  even  though  they 
are  not,  wherefore  they  are  of  much  color  value  as 
background  among  lighter  and  more  perishable 
Summer  foliage. 

The   chief    fame   of    Bayberry,    aside    from   the 


2QO 


WAYFARERS 


excellent  keeping  quality  of  its  fragrant  branches 
when  used  to  fill  the  great  jars  in  Summer  fire- 
places, comes  from  its  adhesive  gray  berries.  From 
these  a  waxy  substance  is  obtained 
that  in  Colonial  times  was  much 
prized  for  candle  -  making 
and  such  uses,  the  plants 
being  one  of  the  few  shrubs 
of  sand  dunes,  growing 
profusely  along  the  eastern 
seacoast,  where  it  is  still 
called  Candleberry. 

Presently  the  roadside 
became  shady  on  the  left, 
while  on  the  right  a  rocky 
ledge  dropped  abruptly  to  the  river. 
The  wooded  bank,  sloping  upward 
to  a  crest  of  Hemlocks  and  Cotton 
Poplars,  was  green  with  Ground  Pine, 
Laurels,  and  Christmas  Ferns,  while 
at  the  other  side  was  an  irregular 
line  of  low  shrubs  with  downy  leaves, 
suggesting  both  those  of  the  Sugar  Maple  and 
Wild  Grape,  among  which  were  panicles  of  purple - 
pink  flowers,  having  the  fringed  stamens,  shape,  and 
quality  of  small  Wild  Roses,  that  named  them  as 


WAYFARERS  29 I 

Purple  -  flowering  Raspberries,  whose  use  is  beauty, 
as  the  coarse  fruit,  though  edible,  is  dry  and 
tasteless. 

Removed  from  its  surroundings  or  seen  where 
the  too  bright  sunlight  fades  the  peculiar  color  of 
its  petals,  this  shrub  might  be  passed  by  as  unat- 
tractive, but  here,  between  road  and  river,  growing 
variously  in  straight  ranks  that  merged  into  thick 
clumps,  or  springing  from  between  rocks  and 
hanging  over  in  almost  vinelike  profusion  between 
Wild  Grape  festoons,  to  be  reflected  in  the  water, 
the  color  harmonized  perfectly  and  gave  the  finish- 
ing touch  to  one  of  the  loveliest  byway  pictures  I 
have  ever  seen. 

Going  into  the  Glen  only  far  enough  to  let 
Nell  drink  from  the  old  pot-hole  stone,  to  which 
a  spring  is  led  by  an  open  wooden  pipe,  we  turned 
about,  Nell  lazily  retracing  her  steps,  and  I  absorb- 
ing, as  best  I  might,  this  picture  of  the  shaded 
road,  reversed  by  the  turning  and  quite  different 
from  the  first  view.  The  bank  that  was  a  flower- 
ing rockery  was  now  on  the  left,  and  the  river  mir- 
rored scraps  of  beauty  and  drew  down  the  sky  until 
it  met  and  blended  with  them,  while  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  Glen  the  bright  sun  rested  on  masses 
of  deep  Pink  Knotweed  that  carried  the  Raspberry 


WAYFARERS 


color  in  a  paler  tone  into  the  distance,  completing 
the  color  harmony  of  the  picture. 

Such  vistas  are  to  be  looked  at  and  remembered, 
but  they  cannot  be  counterfeited  by  the  hand  of 
man.  The  Magician  only  can  combine  the  detail 
and  broad  effect  that  makes  them  what  they  are. 

In  September  the  purple  stalks  and  odd  green 
leaves  of  the  White  Wild  Lettuce  will  have  replaced 
the  Flowering  Raspberry  in  the  Glen,  and  along 
the  rocky  side  of  the  highway, 
when  the  Sumacs  will  become 
prominent  as  wayfarers.  These 
are  more  or  less  conspicuous  all 
the  year,  four  types  being  locally 
plentiful  —  the  Poison  Sumac  of 

moist    grounds,    with    the 

--•^^. 

white,    drooping   berries,  and 

the  Staghorn,  Smooth  Upland  and 
Scarlet  Sumacs  of  light  wood 
edges  and  dry  hillsides. 

These  three  last  are  also  at- 
tractive in  early  Summer,  from 
the  brightness  of  their  foliage  and 
the  feathery  yellow -green  of  the 
flower  -  spikes  ;  but  when  the 
berry -cones  redden  they  seem  to  step 


WAYFARERS  2Q3 

out  from  the  tangled  wild  hedges  and  briar  - 
carpeted  waste  pastures  to  suddenly  become  the 
most  notable  of  wayfarers. 

The  Upland  Sumac  has  smooth  leaves  that  in 
Autumn  appear  varnished,  and  show  little  wings 
along  the  midrib  that  unite  the  leaflets  to  the 
central  stem.  The  foliage  of  this  Sumac,  besides 
taking  deep  rich  crimson  Autumn  tints,  has  a  firm 
leathery  quality  that  makes  it  valuable  for  decora- 
tive uses,  either  when  freshly  gathered  or  when 
pressed  and  massed  with  the  berries  of  the  Stag- 
horn  variety  and  branches  of  Bittersweet. 

The  Scarlet  is  the  usual  hillside  type;  the  leaves, 
dark  green  above,  are  whitish  underneath,  and  its 
flower -clusters  are  often  ragged  from  a  mingling 
of  distorted  leaves,  while  the  Staghorn  Sumac  is 
the  tallest  type  of  all,  growing  to  a  tree  of  forty 
feet,  with  long  leaves  of  sometimes  thirty  -  one 
leaflets.  The  berries  of  the  Staghorn  are  covered 
with  soft  crimson  hairs,  and  the  stems  and  twigs 
are  velvety,  suggesting,  with  its  way  of  branching, 
a  resemblance  to  immature  antlers. 

These  four  Sumacs  may  be  seen  in  Autumn 
following  the  inland  highways,  the  types  varying 
according  to  whether  the  soil  is  wet  or  dry;  and 
these  Sumacs,  together  with  the  trailing  Black- 


2Q4  WAYFARERS 

berry  vines,  the  five -fingered  Virginia  Creeper  of 
stone  walls,  the  three -leaved  bushy  vines  of  Poison 
Ivy  that  crown  the  fence  posts,  give  the  key-note 
of  Autumn  color  that  starts  like  a  fire  among  way- 
side leaves,  and  burns  upward  and  inward,  until  the 
Summer  beauty  wastes  away  and  is  consumed,  and 
even  the  tallest  Oak  of  the  forest  is  aflame. 


STAGHOR.N      SUMAC 


XI 

THE   DRAPERY  OF  VINES 


VINES  are  terrible  cur'ous  natured  things," 
said  Time  o'  Year,  the  week  after  the 
great  August  storm  that  had  uprooted  trees, 
swept  away  frail  bridges,  gullied  the  hillsides,  and 
furrowed  the  fields  of  standing  corn  as  with  a 
Juggernaut  car.  He  was  at  work  outside  his 
cabin,  trying  to  replace  the  drapery  of  vines  that 
concealed  the  rough  chestnut  slabs  before  the 
wind  had  rudely  rent  and  twisted  them;  touching 
each  prostrate  branch  and  relaxed  tendril  as  gently 
as  if  it  was  a  sensate  thing  sorely  bruised  and 
wounded. 

"All  that  keeps  'em  from  standing  up  and  being 
like    trees    and    other    plants    is    weak    backbones, 
that  makes  'em  fall  over  and   hang  hold  of  some- 
295 


296  THE     DRAPERY    OF    VINES 

thing  else,  which,  as  I  've  observed,  likewise  often 
happens  with  folks.  I  reckon  there  's  reason  and 
intention  in  it,  for  we  could  n't  get  along  with- 
out vines  ter  take  the  shiftless  look  out  o'  old  rail 
fences,  trim  up  dead  trees,  and  sort  o'  pull  together 
things  that  's  all  howsome,  any  more  'n  we  could 
do  without  the  leanin'  sort  o'  folks  that  's  to  be 
found  in  most  families.  Outdoors  would  be  mighty 
lonesome  if  the  woods  was  all  made  o'  straight 
Poplars. 

"Now  you'd  nat' rally  allow  leanin'  and  hangin' 
on  was  a  mighty  simple  thing  to  do,  but  when 
you  reckon  up  the  different  ways  they  have  o' 
doin'  it,  't  is  n't  far  to  believin'  that  vines  can  move 
and  think  things  out  somehow,  for  many  on  'em 
acts  good-intentioned  and  others  pesky,  same  as 
folks. 

"Some  vines  jest  lay  flat  on  the  ground,  and  sort 
o'  trail  along,  havin'  no  ambition  to  go  far,  and  the 
stem  gets  covered  with  dirt  so  you  'd  scarcely  know 
it  for  a  vine, — like  Arbutus  and  Twin  Flowers,  Pa'- 
tridge  Vine  and  Ground  Pine.  Others  sends  up 
long  branches  that  grow  quick  and  seem  to  sort  o' 
feel  round  uneasy  until  they  touch  something  to  lay 
hold  on.  Then  they  're  up  and  off  sky-high,  twist- 
ing themselves  round  and  round,  and  climbing  like 


THE    DRAPERY    OF    VINES 


297 


snakes.  Great  Bindweed  goes  that  way,  pullin' 
itself  up  over  the  weeds,  and  mebby  two  vines  '11 
meet  and  wind  around  each  other,  and  climb  up  in 
the  air.  Waxwork  does  that  too,  an'  Climbin' 
Hemp.  See  that  lot  of  it  down  there  by  the  river, 
the  way  it  's  prettied  up  that  mess  o'  Sticktights 
by  coverin'  'em  in  ? 

"Then,  again,  some  vines  has  strong,  woody 
stems  with  little  sort  o'  roots  along  'em  which 
they  use,  like  caterpillars  do  feet,  to  stick  and 
walk  along  by.  Three  Fingers  (Poison  Ivy)  does 
that,  while  Five  Fingers  (Virginia  Creeper)  has 
climbers  all  made  special  to  claw  wood  and  stone, 
with  little  suckers  on  the  end  jest  like  tree -toads' 
toes.  Grapes  has  these  climbers  too,  lackin'  the 
suckers,  and  so  is  obliged  to  twist  'em  round 
like  wires  same  as  Catbrier,  which  I  call  pesky, 
along  with  Tear  Thumb,  that  's  a  mean  cussed 
thing,  havin'  stem  prickles  set  backward 

like  fish-hook  barbs. 

More  yet  climbs   by 


298  THE     DRAPERY    OF    VINES 

the  twiny  end  of  the  leaves  like  Tares,  or  loopin' 
and  twistin'  the  whole  leaf  around  like  this  Bower 
Vine  here." 

The  Bower  Vine  toward  which  Time  o'  Year 
pointed  was  a  wonderful  plant  of  the  Virgin's 
Bower  Clematis,  which,  by  means  of  long  canes 
of  standard  Blackberries,  had  climbed  to  the  cabin 
eaves  and  seized  upon  an  overhanging  Maple  branch 
to  continue  its  career.  Then,  buffeted  by  the 
storm,  it  had  fallen  back  in  a  mass  upon  the 
Blackberries  in  that  stage  of  relaxed  perfection 
of  bloom  that  is  followed  by  the  gray -feathered 
winged  seeds. 

The  old  man  looked  quite  himself  once  more, 
except  that  the  hurried  speech,  which  for  one  of 
his  silent  nature  was  akin  to  garrulous,  told  of  ner- 
vousness. Laying  down  the  hammer,  tacks,  and 
bits  of  leather  with  which  he  was  fastening  the 
vines  in  place,  until,  as  he  expressed  it,  they  could 
"feel  their  fingers  again,"  he  went  into  the  cabin 
and  brought  out  two  long  envelopes  tied  up  in  a 
legal  manner  with  red  tape. 

"Here  be  those  papers  that  we  spoke  about  to- 
gether a  spell  ago,  her  claims  and  mine,  all  wrote 
out,  a  clear  title,  and  swore  to  by  the  town  clerk 
over  to  the  Center.  He  claims — and  he  knows — 


TJt 


THE    DRAPERY    OF    VINES  2QQ 

that  the  Society  '11  hev  ter  keep  these,  but  the 
copies  that  you  're  goin'  ter  get  made  in  pictures  '11 
.be  for  A-lois  all  right.  Now  the  old  doctor  thet  's 
dead,  he  had  fam'ly  pride,  and  his  folks  was  all 
figured  out  like  a  tree  with  roots  and  branches  and 
what  not.  I  saw  it  once  when  I  fetched  hjm  up 
some  fish -flies.  I  was  thinkin'  thet  I  'd  like  these 
here  drawn  out  like  two  Sugar  Maples,  such  as 
those  in  front  o'  the  farm  up  there,  standin'  side 
by  side,  and  when  they  're  worked  up  ter  the  top, 
ter  have  the  branches  touch.  That  's  me  and  her, 
and  then  right  over  that,  work  in  A-lois'  picture, 
kind  o'  like  an  Apple,  'cause  she  's  the  last  bearin' 
o'  both  trees,  and  she  's  goin'  ter  star,t  a  new 
plantin'  all  over  in  fresh  ground." 

"But  how  about  using  Alois  as  an  Apple  on  the 
top  of  a  Maple  tree  ?"  I  asked,  struggling  to  take 
exact  account  of  his  directions,  for  the  guidance  of 
Flower  Hat  in  the  doing  of  this  curious  task  for 
which  I  stood  sponsor. 

"I  asked  the  doctor  that  about  his'n,  which 
was  plainly  an  Oak  tree,  and  yet  ev'ry  name  was 
writ  on  an  Apple.  He  laughed  and  said  it  was  the 
way  with  fam'ly  trees, — they  took  on  cur'ous  con- 
trary grafts  that  would  kill  any  other  kind,  and 
often  upset  Scripter  by  bearin'  Figs  on  Thorns  and 


300 


THE    DRAPERY    OF    VINES 


w/ 


Grapes   of  Thistles.     Also,   he 
supposed    Apples    was    a   good 
humblin'   fruit    to  use  on  such 
trees  ter  keep  down  fam'ly  pride 
and  make    folks  meditate    on  the 
fall    o'    man    and    the    worry    o' 
knowin'  too  much." 

When  I  stowed  the  papers  safely  away 
under  the  seat  of  the  chaise,  the  delicate 
fragrance  of  Violets  seemed  to  rise  from  the 
damp,  matted  herbage  by  the  river.  As  I 
raised  my  head  to  catch  the  wind,  after  the 
fashion  of  a  hunting-dog,  a  habit  soon  ac- 
quired by  outdoor  people  on  the  alert  for 
scent  and  sound,  Time  o'  Year  noticed  the 
expression  of  inquiry,  and  said, 

"No,    it    ain't    Violets.      Come    and   see! 
Ground    Nuts,"   he  added,   laconically,   pointing   to 
where  a  mass  of  bean -like  leaves  and  twisted  vine- 


THE    DRAPERY    OF    VINES  3<DI 

stalks  mingled  with  the  Elder  bushes,  now  loaded 
with  the  translucent,  wine -colored  berries. 

"Hyacinth  Beans,"  I  added,  lifting  the  leaves  to 
find  the  clusters  of  thick  -petaled,  keeled  flowers  of 
violet -brown,  that  yield  such  an  exquisite  odor. 
The  vine  was  fairly  heavy  with  its  fragrant  burden, 
but  the  flower -clusters,  being  borne  in  the  leaf- 
axils,  are  often  concealed  from  the  eye,  and  so  first 
tell  the  nose  of  their  presence.  For  a  space  of 
at  least  twenty  yards,  the  bushes  of  the  low  ground 
were  bound  into  a  hedge  by  this  vigorous  vine, 
which,  although  too  inconspicuous  in  itself  to  be 
called  a  landscape  flower,  pays  its  tithe  in  fra- 
grance, and  brings  into  uniformity  much  that  would 
otherwise  be  unsightly,  straggling  growth. 

This  Bean  has  two  cousins,  one  "pesky,"  to 
use  Time  o'  Year's  expression,  and  the  other 
daintily  pretty,  —  the  Hog  Peanut  of  tangles  and 
woodland  underbrush,  and  the  Trailing  Wild  Bean 
of  sandy  road  banks. 

The  Hog  Peanut  is  so  very  "pesky"  and  destruc- 
tive to  delicate  ferns  and  flowers  by  throwing  its 
octopus-like  meshes  around  them  and  literally 
choking  them  to  death,  that  every  lover  of  the 
wildwood  undergrowth  should  make  a  point  of  up- 
rooting it  wherever  possible.  It  is  a  plant  'easily 


302  THE    DRAPERY  OF    VINES 

identified  by  its  hairy,  persistent  stems  that  trail 
low,  and  its  three -divided  leaf,  in  form  suggesting 
that  of  Poison  Ivy,  its  cluster  of  purple -pink  flowers 
being  less  conspicuous  than  the  pea-like  pods  that 
follow  them. 

Many  a  time  have  I  gone  to  the  haunt  of 
Maidenhair,  Closed  Gentian,  or  Gerardia,  to  find 
the  plants  wholly  choked  by  this  Bean,  which  is 
more  mischievous  than  the  Dodder,  that  winds  its 
coils  of  copper  about  marsh  plants,  without  having 
its  merit  of  originality. 

The  Trailing  Wild  Bean,  on  the  other  hand, 
decorates  what  would  be  barren  and  unsightly  banks 
with  little  clusters  of  pink,  flesh,  or  lilac -tinted 
blossoms,  held  well  above  the  handsome  leaves  on 
straight,  stiff  stalks,  which,  from  the  wholly  pros- 
trate habit  of  the  vine,  appear  like  separate  plants. 
The  long,  slender  pods,  oftenest  growing  in  groups 
of  three,  are  also  quite  ornamental.  These  two  are 
minor  vines, — almost  ground -dwellers,  so  to  speak, — 
akin  to  Vetches,  Beach  Peas,  Trefoils,  Bedstraws, 
Jill -over -the -ground,  Bearberry,  Cranberry,  Pyxie, 
and  a  score  of  other  trailing  vines  which,  accord- 
ing to  the  definition  that  "  a  vine  is  any  plant 
having  a  weak  stem  that  reclines  on  the  ground, 
or  rises  by  means  of  aerial  rootlets,  or  by  clasping 


CREEPER  -r-    "THOW4NO     ITS    LOVELY 
OVER     ROCKS,   TREES,  OR    CRUMBL1  NG    RUINS ." 


THE    DRAPERY    OF    VINES 


or  twining  about  a  support, 
are  so  classified,  but  which  are 
commonly  re- 
garded merely 
as  low -growing 
plants. 

"The  Vine" 
in  Bible  lan- 
guage indi- 
cated the 
Grape,  and  at 
once  suggests  the  climbing  rather  than  the  merely 
prostrate  trailing  plants. 

The  real  vines  of  the  landscape  are  those  that 
drape  the  ungraceful  and  screen  the  unsightly, 
swinging  their  branches  in  the  wind  as  they  climb 
to  their  tree -top  flower-gardens,  trailing  them  in 
the  streams  which  they  try  to  imitate  in  the  un- 
dulous  motions  of  their  growth,  or  following  the 
highways  to  decorate  and  drape  neglected  walls  and 
fences  by  their  presence. 


304  THE    DRAPERY    OF    VINES 

Of  the  ninety  or  so  vines  of  the  northeastern 
states,  twenty  comprise  all  those,  exclusive  of  gar- 
den escapes,  that  have  real  landscape  value.  These 
make  themselves  felt  in  different  ways  and  degrees, 
sometimes  as  a  whole,  then  either  by  leaf  and  ten- 
dril, flower  or  fruit,  or  by  only  one  of  these,  so  that 
to  appreciate  vines  one  must  be  able  to  recognize 
them  under  all  conditions,  as  we  know  the  trees. 

As  standard  plants  may  be  roughly  classified  as 
herbs  and  shrubs,  so  may  landscape  vines  be  grouped 
as  herbaceous  and  woody  climbers,  the  first  being 
those  that,  coming  from  either  perennial  roots  or 
seed,  make  a  new  growth  each  year,  being  cut 
down  to  the  ground  only  or  wholly  killed  by  frost; 
the  second,  the  vines  of  hardy  stems,  which  go  on 
increasing  in  size  from  year  to  year,  until,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  Poison  Ivy,  Virginia  Creeper,  and  Wax- 
work or  Bittersweet,  the  stem  often  attains  such 
proportions  that  it  remains  standing  and  treelike 
after  the  support  to  which  it  originally  clung  has 
fallen  away.  All  of  these  vines  flower  during  Sum- 
mer, according  to  locality  and  situation;  in  fact,  I 
can  recall  no  northern  climbing  vine  that  is  rep- 
resented among  the  early  Spring  flowers,  though 
ground  Trailing  Arbutus,  evergreen  Ground  Pines, 
Club  Mosses,  Flowering  Moss  or  Pyxie,  technically 


THE    DRAPERY    OF    VINES  305 

speaking,  represent  the  general  class  at  the  coming 
of  Spring. 

Of  the  woody,  or,  in  fact,  of  all  our  vines,  Vir- 
ginia Creeper  stands  easily  the  peer.  Clean  of 
limb,  with  leaves  of  five  gracefully -poised  parts, 
disc -tipped  tendrils,  and  flower -stems  which  look 
like  leaf  framework  adapted  for  the  plant's  service, 
as  in  truth  they  are,  it  has  clusters  of  small  green 
flowers  that  make  its  haunts  hum  like  a  beehive  all 
through  July,  followed  in  Autumn  by  deep  blue 
berries  with  a  frosty  bloom,  set  on  red  stalks  which 
often  remain  in  coral -like  spikes  after  the  fruit  has 
gone  to  make  a  meal  for  hungry  birds.  As  a 
climber  its  ambition  is  boundless,  for  without  turn- 
ing from  its  course  this  Creeper  will  often  ascend 
fifty  feet,  at  the  same  time  sending  out  branches  at 
right  angles,  that  swing  and  droop  with  the  most 
perfect  grace.  In  color  scheme  it  rivals  the  Poison 
Ivy,  that  handsome  but  evil  plant  which  for  its  sins 
is  set  apart.  In  Summer  even,  Virginia  Creeper 
often  shows  pinkish  ribs  and  leaf-veinings,  while 
from  middle  August  until  frost  scatters  the  leaflets 
all  the  scintillations  of  flame  belong  to  it. 

A  little  way  from  home  there  is  a  crossroad  that 
I  call  the  Vine  Way,  where  the  rocky  bank  has 
been  allowed  to  keep  its  wealth  of  hedging,  and 


306  THE    DRAPERY    OF    VINES 

where  the  plants  and  trees  that  have  become  way- 
farers are  protected  by  the  owner  of  the  border 
land.  Here  is  yearly  a  sort  of  gallery  exhibition  of 
these  hardy  vines  hung  about  and  over  a  thicket 
of  tall  Red  Cedars,  Bird  Cherries,  and  Privet 
bushes;  and  as  all  the  flowers  and  fruit  are  held 
high  over  a  stony  bank  they  are  as  sour  grapes 
to  the  passer-by,  and  remain  undespoiled.  In  early 
Summer  the  white  flowers  of  Bird  Cherry  are  con- 
trasted with  the  coral  tubes  of  Trumpet  Honey- 
suckle of  smooth,  twining  stem,  whose  oblong 
leaves,  those  underneath  the  flowers  closing  around 
the  stalk,  are  almost  evergreen  even  in  Connec- 
ticut, after  the  fashion  of  its  Chinese  relatives,— 
which,  having  escaped  from  a  near-by 
garden,  cover  the  opposite  wall. 

The  Virgin's  Bower,  rooted  in  moister 
soil  behind  the  fence,  leans  over  to  clasp 
a  prim  bush  of  Privet,  while  Catbrier,  set 
like  a  barbed  screen  to  keep  out  intrud- 
ers,   shows    varnished 
green  leaves,  clusters  of 
a  dozen  or  so  yellowish 
flowers  in  June,  and  all 
the    rest    of    the    year 
berries  that  range  from 


THE    DRAPERY    OF    VINES  307 

green  to  purple -black,  hanging  on,  as  impervious 
to  cold  as  leaden  bullets,  through  the  fiercest  Winter 
.storms. 

The  group  of  Cedars  on  this  bank  have  been 
chosen  by  the  Waxwork  and  Virginia  Creepers  for 
trellises  upon  which  to  display  all  their  ambition 
for  high  climbing  and  their  capabilities  for  draping, 
looping,  and  twining,  in  which  they  are  joined  by 
a  veteran,  shaggy -barked  vine  of  Fox  Grape,  also 
near  kin  to  the  Virginia  Creeper,  its  few  clustered 
bunches  of  amber-purple  berries  being  the  ancestors 
of  Isabella,  Concord,  and  other  garden  favorites. 

What  an  harmonious  trio  they  make  !  The 
Grape  furnishes  fragrance  in  flower  and  fruit,  the 
Creeper  beauty  of  leaf,  and  the  Waxwork  the 
most  highly  decorative  berry  of  any  vine,  either 
when  the  little  yellow  lemons  are  intact  or  after 
they  open  to  display  the  scarlet  seed  pulp.  Yet, 
in  spite  of  these  great  berry  wreaths  that  crown 
the  pointed  Cedars,  it  is  the  Virginia  Creeper  which 
draws  the  eye  by  its  combined  grace  and  mas- 
siveness,  both  displayed  by  different  parts  of  the 
same  vine.  In  fact,  this  creeper,  though  not  an 
evergreen,  is  the  only  American  equivalent  for  the 
transfiguring  Old  World  Ivy,  and,  like  it,  survives 
transplanting  and  continues  its  hopeful  upward 


308  THE    DRAPERY    OF    VINES 

course,  throwing  its  lovely  draperies  equally  over 
rocks,  trees,  or  crumbling  ruins  as  if  to  shield  them 
from  public  gaze  during  their  downward  way. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  on  this  bank,  at  least, 
it  has  often  been  uprooted,  Poison  Ivy  still  strug- 
gles up  a  stone  heap,  endeavoring  to  display  its 
gorgeous  colors  with  the  other  climbers,  showing 
that  this  vine  of  fatal  touch  has  at  least  the  two 
good  attributes  that  the  charitable  old  lady  accorded 
the  devil,  —  perseverance  and  good  taste  in  reds. 

The  other  Wild  Grapes  that  hold  such  an  im- 
portant place  in  the  landscape  are  the  Sweet- 
scented  Riverside,  and  Frost  varieties. 

The  Riverside  Grape  is  the  vine  whose  shining, 
deeply-lobed  leaves  make  green  walls  of  the  bushes 
along  streams,  the  blossoms  filling  the  air  with 
musky  perfume  in  early  Summer,  and  the  fruit  with 
spice  from  July  until  the  last  cluster  has  disap- 
peared in  middle  Autumn.  The  Frost,  Chicken, 
or  'Possum  Grape,  with  leaves  of  both  the  Poplar 
and  Maple  type,  is  most  conspicuous  in  Autumn 
when  others  have  lost  their  fruits,  from  its  thickly 
clustering  bunches  of  small  black  berries,  covered 
with  bloom,  and  more  nearly  resembling  an  irregular 
bunch  of  Bird  Cherries  than  the  yield  of  any  of  its 
Grape  kindred. 


THE    DRAPERY    OF    VINES 


309 


There     is     something     in     the 
swing  and    trail    of    a    Grape-vine 
.that   gives  both  breadth  and  focus 
to  a  water  picture,  so  much 
so  that  the  Fox  Grape  seems 
out  of  place  growing  in  dry 
woods  and  looping  its  stout 
stems   like    swings    between 
the  trees. 

Vines  and  rivers   al- 
ways    seem    to    me    of 
kindred    temperament, 
and    three    at    least   of    our 
loveliest  Summer    vines  are 
hereabout    oftenest     found 
within    sound    of    water, — 
these   are   Mountain   Fringe, 
Balsam  Apple,  and  the  Wild 
Yam. 

Mountain   Fringe 
also  grows  on  hillsides, 
but  I  associate  it  with 
moist  woods  quite  near 
the  river,  where  its  deli- 
cate  leaves,  a  cross  be- 
tween those  of  Meadow 


THE    DRAPERY    OF    VINES 


Rue   and   the   deeply   cleft    foliage    of 
its    cousin,   Dutchman's    Breeches, 
fall  in    relief  against  a   dark   back- 
ground and  support   the  violet -white, 
dangling  blossoms  whose  shape  faintly 
suggests  those  of  the   Bleeding  Heart 
of  old  gardens. 

The    Balsam  Apple,   in  a  wild  state, 
is    a   true   vine    of   waterways,   following 
them  as  closely  as  does  the  River  Grape, 
though    in    cultivation   it   seems  resigned 
to     any    rather    moist,     rich    soil. 
When    in    July    it    puts    forth     its 
flower-clusters,    which    are    of   two 
kinds,  the  one  bearing  the  seed 
being    small    and   inconspicuous, 
the  other  a  long,  feathery  wand 
of  dull  white  six -cleft  flowers,  it 
is   decorative    in    the   ex- 
treme and  fairly  overflows 
herbs   and    shrubs  with    a 
foam -topped  tidal  wave  of 
bloom.      It    also    makes 
effective  use  of  its  three -fingered  tendrils, 
and    adds    a   silvery  tint    of   green   to   the 
landscape    by    its    somewhat    star  -  shaped 


THE    DRAPERY    OF    VINES  $11 

leaves.  Balsam  Apple  is  not  common  hereabout, 
though  Time  o'  Year's  River  mirrors  a  few  masses 
of  it;  but  all  along  the  lower  Bronx  in  New  York 
state  it  is  so  abundant  as  to  paint  charming  pic- 
tures for  the  passers-by  on  trains. 

The  Wild  Yam  is  a  vine  of  moist  seclusion, 
rather  than  one  that  follows  the  wood  edge  or 
open  river.  It  climbs  by  its  stem  for  twelve  or 
fifteen  feet,  and  its  leaves  are  of  the  shape  of  some 
of  the  Bindweeds  and  the  Wild  Convolvulus,  except 
that  the  veins  run  lengthwise,  marking  it  as  akin 
to  the  Lily  tribe,  the  veining  being  like  that  of  the 
Carrion  Flower,  which  shows  its  balls  of  feathery 
white  flowers  along  June  hedges  and  wood  bor- 
ders, to  be  followed  by  clusters  of  sometimes  forty 
or  fifty  bluish  berries. 

The  Yam  has  a  very  fantastic  way  of  progress- 
ing, by  going  to  the  end  of  a  straight  sapling,  then 
bending  in  a  leafy  festoon  until  it  reaches  another, 
so  that  a  dozen  slender  trees  may  be  joined  and 
draped  in  this  graceful  fashion.  The  small  flowers 
are  a  greenish  white,  drooping  in  loose  panicles, 
quite  inconspicuous  in  comparison  with  the  bright 
green  three -angled  seeds  which,  when  mature,  are 
almost  one  inch  long,  and  hang  in  long  bunches 
that  are  very  ornamental.  These  frequently  re- 


312  THE    DRAPERY   OF    VINES 

main  over  Winter,  serving  as  a  guide  to  the  home 
of  a  vine  that  might  be  unnoticed  in  Summer  when 
thick  leafage  covers  its  retreat  in  the  same  woods 
beloved  of  Climbing  Nightshade. 

Three  other  Summer  vines  there  are, —  landscape 
factors,  and  yet  veritable  wayfarers, —  appearing  to 
follow  wayside  fences  as  persistently  as  the  Knights 
of  the  Road  do  the  railway  tracks.  These  are 
Wild  Convolvulus,  False  Buckwheat,  and  Wild  Hop. 

Wild  Convolvulus  is  the  most  decorative  of  the 
Summer  wild  vines,  and  its  chaliced  flowers  of 
either  pure  white  or  pink  with  white  stripes  are 
to  be  seen  mingling  with  Wild  Roses  and  fragrant 
Elder  blossoms  in  early  Summer.  To  think  of  one 
plant,  in  fact,  is  to  call  to  mind  the  others.  No 
support  is  too  humble  for  the  Convolvulus,  —  a 
bunch  of  weeds,  a  ground  wire  from  a  telegraph 
pole,  or  a  fence  will  do;  and  I  have  seen  dead 
Milkweed  and  Mullein  stalks  so  completely  appro- 
priated by  its  clinging  stem  and  clean,  triangular 
leaves  as  to  deceive  the  unwary  into  thinking  the 
Convolvulus  a  standing  plant. 

Sunflower  Lane  is  hedged  with  these  lovely 
flowers  every  June,  their  places  being  taken  in 
late  Summer  by  festoons  of  Climbing  False  Buck- 
wheat, cousin  to  Tear  Thumb,  which  has  a  some- 


THE    DRAPERY    OF    VINES 


what  similar,  though 
more    heart  -  shaped 
leaf   than    the   Con- 
volvulus ;     and    loose 
panicles   of   yellowish 
green  flowers  quickly 
followed  by  the  three -angled 
seeds,  resembling  the  hulls  of 
Buckwheat. 

I  have  found  the  native  Hop 
living  in  Sunflower  Lane  in  a 
way  that  precludes  the  idea  of  its  being  a  garden 
escape.  To  watch  the  growth  of  this  vine  (for 
the  growth  is  almost  visible),  its  manner  of  reach- 
ing out  for  and  clasping  the  support  when  once 
it  is  secured,  is  to  agree  that,  as  a  mental  effort, 
the  study  of  the  movements  of  vines  is  second 
only  to  that  of  the  fertilization  of  Orchids  by 
insects.  Darwin  testifies  that  a  new  shoot  of  Hops 
rises  straight  from  the  ground,  and  after  a  while 


THE    DRAPERY   OF   VINES 


support, 
bends  and 
travels  as  if  grop- 
ing around  all  parts  of  the  compass, 
moving  in  a  circle,  like  the  hands 
on  a  watch,  either  until  it  finds 
a  support  to  contract  about,  or 
until  it  becomes  stiff  from  age; 
and  he  has  estimated  the  aver- 
age time  for  one  revolu- 
tion around  the  circle  to 
be  two  hours  and  eight 
minutes. 

"It  's  cur'ous  that 
vines  is  about  the  easiest 
posies  to  move,"  said  Time 
o'  Year,  standing  by  the 
cabin  and  surveying  the 
repaired  greenery.  "Just 
like  lopsy  folks.  Give  'em 
good  feedin'  and  a  support 


THE    DRAPERY    OF    VINES  315 

accordin'  to  their  natures  and  they  're  settled  in 
no  time,  people  o'  set  feelin's  and  trees  bein' 
different.  But  I  '11  say  this  for  the  vines  —  you 
must  cut  'em  back  to  the  root  and  let  'em  spring 
up  fresh  and  take  their  own  hold  o'  things.  Each 
one  has  its  own  way  o'  twistin',  and  won't  go 
back -handed.  One  that  by  nature  goes  left -wise 
'11  lie  flat  on  the  ground  'fore  it  '11  twist  to  the 
right,  even  if  there  's  good  stuff  to  hang  to 
near-by  —  showin'  plenty  o'  spunk  where  it  don't 
seem  of  no  account,  jest  like  leanin'  folks. 

"All  that  tackin'  and  tyin'  up  I  've  done  won't 
amount  to  anything  only  to  keep  the  vines  from 
breakin'  down  till  they  feel  their  own  fingers  again. 
.  i  .  Be  you  in  a  hurry?  No?  Then  I  '11 
fetch  chairs,  for  I  've  some 'at  more  to  lay  before 
you. 

"The  lease  o'  my  old  farm  bein'  out  in  October, 
I  let  'em  know  I  did  n't  calkerlate  to  rent  again, 
and  quicker  'n  greased  lightnin'  a  story  got  around 
that  Eph  was  married  and  comin'  home  ter  live, 
and  all  such  like.  I  felt  called  to  stop  talk  by 
tellin'  the  new  minister's  wife  the  facts  yesterday 
when  she  was  passin'  up  this  road  a-blackberryin'. 
Nothin'  about  Eph's  tale-tellin'  and  A-lois'  letter, 
but  jest  that  he  was  dead  and  had  done  well  with 


316  THE    DRAPERY   OF    VINES 

some  funds  I  sent  him,  an'  that  I  reckoned  to  move 
back  to  the  farm  to  live,  at  least  o'  winters,  and 
fix  it  up  a  bit,  if  I  could  see  my  way  clear,  and  get 
things  straightened  out  right. 

"She  seemed  mighty  pleased  and  interested  and 
come  in  and  set  down  a  spell.  She  said,  'It  '& 
real  cozy  here.  I  don't  wonder  you  like  it  better 
than  a  big,  lonely  house.' 

'Yes,'  sez  I,  '  after  she  died  most  indoor 
places  seemed  too  big  and  lonesome.  That  's  why 
I  've  kept  mostly  outside.  Seems  somehow  to  me 
that  the  meetin' -house  was  the  loneliest  place  o' 
all.  I  'm  reconciled  to  Scripter  if 't  ain't  pressed 
too  fer  to  prove  out  meanin's  that  was  n't  thought 
on  when  't  was  writ;  but  goin'  by  that,  I  don't 
ever  suppose  we  was  meant  ter  set  in  meetin '- 
houses,  anyhow.  When  I  've  tried  ter  do  it  sense 
she  died,  I  've  jest  felt  cooped  up  in  sin,  and  not 
right  safe  again  until  I  'm  down  the  river  hill. 
Folks  go  so  far  as  ter  say  Natur'  's  a  heathen  god, 
instead  o'  bein'  one  o'  His  hands  to  work  out 
things,  as  I  see  it.' 

"Said  she,  lookin'  round  kind  o'  skeered  o'  her 
own  voice,  *I  often  feel  that  also,  and  the  dear 
Lord  himself  surely  loved  and  lived  out-of-doors, 
and  taught  on  mountains,  by  the  sea,  and  under 


GREAT      BINDWEED,      OR      WILD      CONVOLVULUS 


THE    DRAPERY   OF   VINES  317 

wayside  trees,  choosing  just  ordinary  Field  Lilies 
and  wild  fowl  for  his  texts.  Yours  is  clear  sight, 
Time  o'  Year!' 

"My,  but  things  is  changed  sence  that  day 
when  in  the  meetin'- house  they  preached  Eph 
away  from  home  and  her  out  o'  the  world  and  me 
inter  the  woods  at  one  time! 

"By  and  by,  when  the  minister's  wife  got 
rested,  she  looked  up,  and  says,  kind  o'  quick,  'I 
guess  you  '11  need  a  housekeeper  if  you  move  up 
to  the  farm.' 

"  'That  's  the  worst  on  't,'  sez  I.  'It  's  over 
long  sence  I  've  had  my  outgoin's  and  incomin's 
noticed  or  was  held  accountable  for  the  same.  In 
trout -time  and  'long  in  Fall  when  quail  and  pa'- 
tridge  is  fair  game  and  'coons  are  out,  and  in  be- 
tween times  I  'm  out  early  and  late,  and  keep 
no  reglar  hours,  so  I  'm  af eared  no  sober-minded 
woman  hereabout  would  want  ter  put  up  with 
me, —  nor,  mostlike,  I  with  her.' 

"  *  Why  not  try  some  one  from  away  ?'  she  said, 
kind  o'  smilin'  and  crossin'  the  cabin  ter  pick  up 
the  botany  book  that  the  schoolma'am  I  told  ye 
of  gave  me. 

'  'I  'm  not  acquainted  further  'n  the  Ridge,' 
sez  I. 


3l8  THE    DRAPERY   OF   VINES 

"  'Why  not  have  her?'  sez  she,  pointin'  to  the 
name  on  the  front  page. 

"  fl  'd  be  well  satisfied,  only  I  don't  know  if 
she  's  alive,  even.' 

"'She  is,'  said  the  minister's  wife,  jumpin'  up, 
not  able  to  keep  it  in  longer,  'and  she  's  got  to 
give  up  teachin'  for  good  and  all,  on  account  of  the 
close  air  in  the  school  -  house  hurting  her  lungs 
again.  She  's  poorly  off,  and  looking  for  a  place  as 
housekeeper,  if  only  to  work  for  board.  We  were 
school -girls  together,  and  when  I  moved  here  she 
told  me  all  about  you  and  said  she  hoped  she  'd 
see  you  once  again.  She  would  not  curb  your 
comings  and  goings,  but  would  be  a  daughter  to 
you.  May  I  write  to  her?' 

«  'The  Lord  be  praised!  It  does  beat  all,'  sez 
I,  'how  takin'  counsel  o'  right-minded  women 
gives  comfort.  I  'd  lived  so  long  away  from  'em 
I  'd  near  forgot.  Scripter  is  true.  No  man  can 
either  live  or  die  to  himself,  and  I  've  done  the 
one  and  come  pretty  near  doin'  t'  other.  No, 
so  long  as  man  is  born  o'  woman,  he  's  calkerlated 
to  hev  some  folks  around,  I  reckon;  and  if  he 
don't,  things  don't  work  out  jest  right. 

"  So  minister's  wife,  she  's  goin'  ter  write,  namin' 
good  pay  and  fix  it  up,  an'  by  the  time  the  hick- 


THE    DRAPERY    OF    VINES  319 

ory-nuts  is  ripe,  and  I  've  laid  in  some,  along  o' 
walnuts  and  butternuts,  I  '11  be  livin'  partly  at  the 
farm  for  her  sake  and  to  back  up  Eph's  words  all 
I  can.  But  there  's  no  law  nor  gospel  ter  forbid 
me  keepin'  my  cabin  here,  or  from  followin'  the 
wood  path  and  the  river,  and  hearin'  and  seein' 
what  I  can't  allers  give  account  of.  ... 

"How  about  my  picture  you  was  promisin'  ter 
take,  ter  send  out  ter  A-lois?"  he  asked,  now  quite 
alert,  with  brightened  eyes. 

"I  'm  ready  to-day,  if  you  will  put  on  your  old 
soft  hat  and  long  boots,  and  bring  your  rod  down 
to  the  river  where  the  grapes  make  a  curtain  that 
hides  the  bank,  and  the  water  rushes  over  the 
stones.  No,  don't  fix  up;  come  as  you  are.  I 
want  you  to  look  your  natural  self." 

"Jest  as  you  say.  But  nateral  self  ain't  what 
nobody  1  've  seen  pictered  ever  looked,"  said  Time 
o'  Year,  really  laughing  out  loud,  to  my  astonish- 
ment, for  before  that  I  had  only  seen  him  smile 
silently. 

"There  is  the  place,"  I  said,  pointing  as  we 
reached  the  river.  "Now  wade  along  as  you  do 
when  you  're  trout -fishing,  whipping  your  line 
until  I  call,  Stop!" 

As  he  waded  through  the  eddies  and  swung  his 


32O  THE    DRAPERY    OF    VINES 

rod  before  casting,  he  seemed  to  undergo  a  mys- 
terious change.  Time  o'  Year  became  himself 
again,  instead  of  the  anxious  old  man  of  the  last 
few  weeks  who  had  told  me  of  past  sorrows  and 
present  perplexities. 

Whatever  else  befalls,  I  thought,  Alois  shall 
have  a  picture  of  her  grandfather  as  he  really  is, 
the  half  wild  wood  spirit  in  his  haunt  surrounded 
by  a  drapery  of  vines. 


XII 


AFTERMATH 

THE    beginning   and   the  end 
of  the  natural  year  are  alike 
in    simplicity    of    form     and 
un draped    outlines.      The 
foreground    and    vanishing 
point  are  sketched  by  the  etch- 
er's tool  ;    it  is  only  the  broader 
middle    distance    that    is    dense 
with  foliage  and  sensuous  color. 
As    at    the    dawn    of    Spring, 
the  half-tones  of  Pussy  Willow  and 
Catkin -tassels  lead  the  way  toward 
brilliant   flower  color,  so  when  the  finger 
of   frost  touches   the   bright   petals,   after- 
math, in  form  of   clouds  of    smoky  plant 
down,  fantastic  seed -pods,  nuts  and  Win- 

\ii       ter   berries,    draws    the    eye    again    toward 
|      somber  tints,  —  black,  the  absorber  of  all 
ty      colors,  and  white,  its  opposite  —  tree  shad- 
ows upon  the  snow. 

Who   can   predict   the    date   of    the    coming   of 
frost  with  certainty  ?     One  season  the  field  flowers 
U  S^i 


322  AFTERMATH 

are  left  to  die  of  ripe  old  age,  the  delicate  wood 
Ferns  go  through  changes  of  tint,  until  all  color  is 
bleached  from  them  before  they  are  cut  down  in 
late  October.  Another  year  perhaps  nothing  re- 
covers from  the  September  storms  that  beat  and 
make  sodden  and  then  draw  the  cold  northwest 
winds  after  them.  Even  though  frosts  be  light  and 
October  a  month  of  slowly  deepening  red  and  gold, 
the  flowers  disappear  from  their  haunts  one  by  one, 
and  the  Ferns  melt  or  shrivel  away  according  to 
their  previous  succulence,  leaving  the  rock  Poly- 
pody, Ebony  Spleenwort,  Christmas  and  Evergreen 
Wood  Ferns  as  the  Winter  representatives  of  the 
tribe,  so  that  November  is  always  the  month  of 
aftermath.  Then  when  we  follow  the  wood  path 
and  waterways,  the  eye  is  content  with  mere 
gleanings  of  color,  such  as  the  red -berried  cap  of 
Jack -in -the -Pulpit,  the  Dogwood  and  the  coral - 
strung  Winterberry  yield. 

At  this  time  the  open  fields,  uplands,  meadows, 
and  byways,  where  distance  softens,  are  more  allur- 
ing than  the  deep  woods  in  which  we  are  brought 
face  to  face  with  barrenness.  But  of  all  places,  the 
marshes  bordering  Sunflower  Lane  are  the  most 
hospitable  to  both  plant  and  bird. 

The  Hazel  Bushes  along  the  lane   have  dropped 


AFTERMATH  323 

their  nuts,  and  many  a  wise  red  squirrel  has  made 
hoard  of  them.  Young  Oaks,  tenacious  of  leaf, 
form  a  wind-break  toward  the  north,  so  that  here 
and  there  a  tuft  of  Canada  Goldenrod  is  blos- 
soming, with  fresh  Dandelions  at  its  roots,  both 
under  shelter  of  Wild  Lettuce,  gone  to  fluffy  seed, 
while  at  intervals,  until  the  lane  .becomes  merely  a 
wheel -track  in  the  meadow,  tall  bushes  of  Winter - 
berry  flame  up  like  fires  of  a  wayside  gypsy  camp. 

Down  on  the  Sound's  edge  the  change  from 
the  growing  to  the  resting  season  of  flower  and 
fern  is  often  veiled  in  the  sea  mist  following  the 
cold  storm,  and  when  it  lifts,  Indian  Summer  pos- 
sesses the  meadows,  —  the  reprieve  that  the  Ma- 
gician sends  to  soften  the  austerity  of  frost. 

For  two  weeks  we  had  looked  out  upon  a 
clearly  etched  landscape  of  Autumn,  ripened,  not 
rent,  by  the  shock  of  frost,  where  everything  was 
seen  at  a  glance  and  in  detail,  from  the  acorns  that 
the  Jays  pilfered  from  the  Oaks,  beneath  the  win- 
dows, to  the  cornstalks  silhouetted  against  the  sky 
on  the  hill  limit  of  the  horizon.  The  air  was  so 
rarefied  that  the  oxen  plodding  solemnly  along  the 
hill -top  appeared  gigantic,  and  like  the  strange 
winged  beasts  of  the  Apocalypse. 


324 


AFTERMATH 


"This  is  growing  monotonous,"  said  Flower 
Hat  one  afternoon,  as  the  sun  went  down  with  a 
piercing,  cold  yellow  glow  that  promised  black 
frost.  "I  don't  like  to  see  everything  at  once,  and 
the  same  thing  all  the  time.  It  's  like  having  one's 
Christmas  presents  given  with  the  wrappings  off,— 
just  things,  with  no  surprises." 

Before  midnight  a  storm  set  in.  The 
weather  changed  again  the  next 
day,  and  fog  wrapped  the  land- 


AFTERMATH  325 

scape,  teaching  us  to  see  it  anew  by  doling  it  out 
in  sections. 

At  first  the  mist  showed  us  only  the  near-by 
White  Pines,  using  itself  as  a  screen  to  throw  out 
the  articulation  of  every  twig.  Then  it  retreated 
below  the  Oaks,  and  we  found  the  russet  hue  that 
dyed  their  tenacious  leaves  very  cheeringly. 

Next,  the  fog  dropped  below  the  old  orchard 
toward  the  river,  on  the  west,  and  the  lowland 
cottages  seemed  to  float  on  a  lake  of  mist,  like 
house -boats.  On  the  south  side  it  rolled  back- 
ward across  the  Sea  Gardens  to  the  beach  crest, 
and  there  remained  for  two  days. 

What  a  protecting  cloak  against  the  gunners 
this  fog  was  to  the  water-fowl,  storm-driven  to  the 
stony  bar!  You  could  hear  their  voices  calling  and 
signaling  along  its  entire  length  from  the  land;  and 
the  flutter  of  damp  wings  made  mysterious  noises, 
like  the  snapping  of  icicles  in  a  Winter  storm  or 
the  dripping  of  melting  snow. 

Ah !  the  beauty  of  the  scene  the  next  morning 
when  the  veil  was  suddenly  lifted  from  the  water, 
and  far  and  near,  covering  the  bay  like  a  fleet  of 
white -winged  boats  in  a  harbor  of  refuge,  the  water- 
fowls floated  at  the  moorings  where  necessity  had 
anchored  them  ! 


326  AFTERMATH 

It  was  a  staccato  day,  this  second  of  November. 
Every  thing  was  sparkling, —  air,  sand,  water,  sky. 
Even  the  sounds  were  crisp  and  clear  cut.  The 
dry  leaves  crackled  and  snapped,  the  wind  played 
over  the  corn -stacks  with  the  dancing  measure  of 
castanets,  while  every  remaining  stalk  of  Marsh 
Grass,  Wild  Rice,  and  the  Old  Fog  of  the  sandy 
fields  rustled  in  a  different  key.  The  bird  notes, 
too,  were  all  staccato.  The  nuthatch's  sharp  quank, 
the  blue  jay's  call,  the  yellow  hammer's  wick-wick- 
wick,  and  the  cry  of  the  circling  red -tailed  hawk, 
— no,  not  all,  for  in  the  upland  stubble  field  from 
which  the  buckwheat  had  been  taken,  rose  a  sweet 
legato  song,  clear,  if  a  trifle  thin.  Spring-o'-the- 
year,  Spring  -  o'- the  -  year,  called  one  voice  to 
another,  and  a  flock  of  meadow  larks  arose  and 
flew  over  us. 

"What  deceitful  birds!"  gasped  Flower  Hat,  as 
she  struggled  to  face  the  wind  and  force  it  to  blow 
back  the  locks  of  hair  that  were  blinding  her, 
turn  up  the  collar  of  her  jacket,  and  give  the  soft 
felt  headgear  she  now  wore  a  tilt  up  behind  and 
down  in  front,  all  at  the  same  time. 

"Not  deceitful, — hopeful  or  reminiscent,  either 
you  please,"  I  answered.  "No  more  deceitful  than 
Indian  Summer  itself  that  spreads  a  golden  haze 


AFTERMATH 


over    the     season's 

raggedness   and 

gives   to  November 

a  day    like    this 

which,     save    for    the 

swift    twilight    and    late 

dawn,   might    be   April. 

The  lark  notes  are  the 

music    to   the   final   scene   of   the    masque    of    the 

Season  of  Blossoms.     The  Magician  has  given  the 

landscape  its  last  flower,  which  sometimes  does  not 

fade   before  he  washes  the  colors  from   his   palette 

with  newly  fallen  snow." 

Flower  Hat,  still  struggling  with  her  hair, 
stopped,  and  climbing  a  rail  fence,  looked  wildly 
about. 

"  Last  flower  landscape  ?  Where  ?  Surely  you 
don't  mean  those  little  wispy  bits  of  Goldenrod, 
and  I  'm  positive  that  the  frost  of  a  week  ago, 


328  AFTERMATH 

though  it  was  very  light,  has  left  nothing  else  in 
this  low  place.  Oh,  look  at  the  line  of  Milk- 
weeds with  the  pods  pointing  this  way  and  that! 
The  sun  and  wind  are  opening  them,  and  you  can 
see  the  silk  puff  out  and  sail  away  with  the  seeds, 
hanging  like  cars  of  a  tiny  balloon;"  and  Flower  Hat 
picked  a  stalk  and  held  it  up.  The  brown  seeds 
seen  through  the  split  pod  fitted  over  one  another 
like  fish  scales,  but  even  as  we  looked,  the  opening 
grew  wider  and  the  dried  scales  slipped  apart, 
hanging  a  moment  by  the  silk -like  filaments  which, 
in  another  second,  feathered  out  and  floated  away 
to  perpetuate  the  race. 

"How  beautiful!"  she  added,  "and  yet  it  is 
only  common  Silkweed.  And  over  yonder  is  a 
Virgin's  Bower  Vine  gone  to  seed,  that,  as  the 
wind  stirs  it,  looks  like  a  wreath  of  leaf  smoke 
pufHng  over  the  brush;  and  there  are  still  a  few 
leaves  and  berries  on  the  Virginia  Creeper.  But  I 
do  not  see  your  last  flower.  Where  and  what  is  it?" 

"That  would  be  telling  a  day's  pleasure  in  one 
word,"  I  replied.  "I  must  answer  as  Time  o' 
Year  does,  'Come  and  see!'  and  then  take  you 
to  this  last  flower  in  its  haunt." 

Before  noon  we  turned  from  the  Hemlocks  into 


AFTERMATH 


329 


the   narrow    road    through    the     hollow.     In 
the    dry   fields    and    along   the    road   the 
various    Thistles    showed    belated    pom- 
pons, and  Climbing  Bittersweet  or  Wax- 
work looped  its  berry -laden  branches  over 
the  walls,  or  else,  fallen  in  a  heap,  chari- 
tably covered  a  mass  of  dingy  weeds 
with  an  orange  and  red  mantle. 


In  the  strip  of  swamp  that  held  the 
backwater  of  the  river,  and  from  which 
it  was  divided  by  a  copse  of  gray -limbed 
Maples,  the  Cat -tail  Flags  still  held 
their  batons,  no  longer  stiff  and  brown, 
but  frayed  and  limp,  above  the  beds  of 
decaying  leaves.  This  is  one  of  the 
marshes  where  the  little  peeping  frogs 
announce  the  coming  of  Spring.  Now 
the  place  was  noiseless,  the  absence  of 


330  AFTERMATH 

the  myriad  sounds  from  throat  and  wing  and  limb 
often  being  the  essential  difference  between  a  late 
Autumn  and  an  early  Spring  day. 

Along  the  Hemlock  road  the  banks  were  green 
with  Christmas  Ferns,  and  red  Partridge  Berries 
revealed  great  mats  of  the  inconspicuous  little  vines 
that  were  somewhat  overlooked  in  the  flowering 
season,  just  as  the  brilliant  oval  berries  of  Spice 
Bush  are  far  better  known  than  its  early  blossoms. 

Now,  for  a  space,  the  ground  on  each  side  of 
the  road  was  low,  and  then  sloped  up  to  drier 
woods. 

"Look  at  the  Willows,"  cried  Flower  Hat,  al- 
most falling  out  of  the  chaise  as  she  pointed. 
"The  soft  weather  has  coaxed  them  to  bud,  or 
else  they  misunderstood  those  delusive  meadow 
larks.  You  sillies  !  In  a  few  days,  or  perhaps 
to-night,  you  will  be  nipped  in  the  bud  and  learn 
by  bitter  experience,  like  the  rest  of  us,  that,  no 
matter  how  it  seems,  it  is  not  safe  in  New  England 
to  be  without  your  flannels  between  October  and 
May." 

"Not  Willows;  guess  again,"  I  said,  guiding  Nell 
into  the  road;  for,  as  usual,  she  had  walked  up  to 
the  nearest  fence  to  be  tied  the  moment  Flower 
Hat  sprang  to  her  feet. 


AFTERMATH 


331 


The  band  of  peculiar  greenish  yellow,  in  pig- 
ments called  citrine,  now  followed  the  road  on  both 
sides  and  washed  well  up  on  to  the  hills.  The  hue 
suggested  both  Willows  and  the  flowers  of  Spice 
Bush,  now  showing  the  ripe  berries,  yet  lacked 


the  glow 
of  Spring 
color,  be- 
ing a  sort 

of  reflection,  as  moonlight  to  sunlight, 
though  it  filled  the  eye  completely 
and  drew  it  from  the  misty  grayness 
of  the  leafless  Swamp  Maples. 

As  we  drove  through  a  narrow 
place  where  the  bushes  came  to  the 
wheel -tracks,  the  same  color  suddenly 
appeared  within  grasp. 

"You   have    come,    seen    the   flower   in 
the  landscape,  and  here  it  is   almost  in  the  hand," 
I  said.     "Now  what  is  it  ?" 

Flower    Hat    gazed    at    the    mottled    branch    for 
which  she  had  reached.     The  nuts  of  a  past  sea- 


332  AFTERMATH 

son  were  ripening  side  by  side  with  the  threadlike 
petals  of  the  newly -opened  blossoms  that  wrote  its 
name. 

"Witch  Hazel!"  she  exclaimed.  "Who  would 
have  dreamed  that  there  was  miles  of  it  here,  or 
that  these  spidery  flowers  could  light  up  the  whole 
landscape  and  take  the  bleakness  from  it  !  I  've 
often  had  bunches  of  it  sent  me,  and  I  liked  the 
flowers  for  their  oddity,  but  out  here  it  is  a  wholly 
different  thing.  Why  don't  people  come  to  see  it 
as  they  go  to  hunt  for  Arbutus  or  Pussy  Willows 
in  Spring  ?  It 's  quite  worth  while." 

"Why,  indeed?"  I  echoed  in  thought.  "Be- 
cause, I  suppose,  the  outing  mood  is  too  often  for- 
saken with  other  Summer-day  occupations,  and  so 
in  Autumn  the  flower  in  the  hand  is  better  known 
than  the  flower  in  the  landscape.  Very  few  people 
have  any  idea  of  what,  if  anything,  awaits  them  on 
the  border  of  November  woods." 

A  half  mile  of  Witch  Hazel  glow,  and  then  the 
wood  road  opened  on  a  level  turnpike,  where  the 
matted  down  of  seeded  Goldenrods  and  other  com- 
posites blew  along  the  ground  in  clouds,  showing 
that  in  every  way  they  are  a  conquering  race,  to  be 
watched  and  kept  well  within  bounds. 

Then    Flower    Hat    began    to    laugh    at    Nell, 


TH£     FROST     TftA.CERlES       UPON     THE     WINDOW 
££    •     '    CONCEAL      THE      WIDE      OUTDOORS." 


AFTERMATH 


333 


whose  shaggy  Fall  coat  had  taken  up  a 
collection  of  all  the  stick -tights  and  seed- 
ing things  in  the  wood  road  that  were  pro- 
vided with  hooks  and  claws  instead  of  wings 
to  ensure  their  transportation  to  new  soil.  A 
tuft  of  Burdocks  ornamented  the  end  of 
her  nose,  and  she  lowered  her  head  to 
show  us  that  one  of  the  mobile  ears  was  fastened 
edge  to  edge  by  the  same  persistent  seeds.  As  we 
stopped  to  pick  them  off,  our  own  skirts  were  soon 
fringed  with  Beggar's  Ticks  and  the  long-hooked 
seeds  of  Brook  Sunflowers  that  had  grown  about 
a  wayside  water -.trough. 

Everything  that  had  not  already  gone  to  seed  was 
surely  beginning  its  journey  that  day,  and  each  fresh 
gust  from  over  the  fields  was  laden  with  flying  down, 
sometimes  so  fine  as  to  appear  to  be  only  a  quiver 
of  the  air,  such  as  is  made  by  summer  gnats.  The 
trees  were  leafless  except  those  Oaks  and  Beeches 


which,  evidently  desiring  to 
be  evergreens,  retain  a  lit- 
tle foliage  until  it  is  fairly 
pushed  off  by  new  leaves 
in  Spring.  The  undraped 
tree  -  forms  therefore  now 
appealed  to  one  in  a  new 
way,  no  longer  as  painting, 
but  as  architecture, — a  sug- 
gestion which  is  still  further 
carried  out  by  the  bold  rock 
ledges  of  this  region  ;  in 
the  summer  transformed  to 


AFTERMATH  335 

terraced  gardens  by  the  clinging  greenery,  but  now 
standing  out  in  nakedness,  like  unquarried  granite, 
as  if  awaiting  the  chisel  of  creative  thought. 

The  river,  too,  assumes  a  different  aspect  in 
this  aftermath  season.  If  we  stand  above  it  and 
look  up  its  course  it  is  revealed  as  a  power,  cut- 
ting its  way  and  adjusting  its  own  surroundings, 
while  in  the  growing  season  it  seems  a  careless 
waterway,  to  be  controlled  and  held  in  check  by 
its  flowery  borders,  and,  unless  pushed  by  the 
sudden,  passionate  impulse  of  a  flood,  too  suave 
to  break  away  from  them. 

Nuts  and  the  various  seed -pods  are  in  them- 
selves a  study,  as  much  apart  from  that  of  the 
perfect  flower  as  are  the  catkins  of  early  Spring; 
and  all  along  the  way  we  paused  to  look  at  first 
one  and  then  another.  The  Hop  Hornbeam  found 
along  the  Hollow  road  has  graceful,  drooping  pods 
like  Hops  pulled  out  twice  their  length.  Such 
Tulip  trees  as  had  not  raised  their  straight  shafts 
out  of  the  line  of  vision  bore  upright  pods,  sug- 
gestive of  dice -cups  when  seen  from  below.  The 
crimson  pyramids  of  Sumac  berries  were  in  the 
velvet,  so  to  speak,  a  depth  of  color  that  they 
retain,  like  the  sturdy  Rose  Hips,  even  when,  after 
much  frost,  they  are  backgrounded  by  snow. 


336 


AFTERMATH 


As  we  reached  the  middle  of  the  Hollow  lane, 
the  little  waterfall  upon  the  right,  lacking  the 
muffling  barrier  of  foliage,  had  an  unaccustomed 
weight  of  ,  sound,  and  on  the  left  the  beauty  of 
the  Laurels  and  Hemlocks  that  swept  above  a 
carpet  of  Ground  Pine  seemed  like  a  new  discovery. 
For,  as  the  flower  and  the  leaf  of  Summer  disap- 
pear from  the  scene,  the  evergreen  comes  forward 
as  by  magic, — the  silent,  unemotional  evergreen, 
companion  of  rocks,  a  thing  seeming  to  have 
more  concern  with  the  fixity  of  "the  eternal 
hills"  than  with  time  and  the  shifting  of  the 
seasons. 

Yet  though  no  color  change  is  theirs, 
other  than    the   contrast   of    the  tender 
shoot  with   weathered  twigs,    and   the 
rosy  hue  of  the  flower  equivalent  with 
the  brown   cone  that   follows,   these 
evergreens  speak  in   a  definite  lan- 
guage of  their  own  to  those  who 
pause    to    listen,    and    the    varied 
expression    of    their   needle 
leaves   is  most   emphatic. 
Under    a    fall    of    soft 
clinging   snow  how    differently 
they    adjust    themselves.      The 


AFTERMATH  337 

Spruce  tips  curve  like  the  feathered  claws  of  the 
Snow  Owl,  or  bristle  beneath  like  the  Winter  foot- 
.gear  of.  the  ruffed  grouse.  The  longer,  soft,  five- 
clustered  leaves  of  White  Pine  are  alternately  ruffled 
or  matted,  like  the  coat  of  some  deeply  furred  wood 
animal,  while  the  Hemlock,  abandoning  all  resist- 
ance, bends,  and  loses  itself  in  drapery. 

At  the  upper  end  of  the  Hollow,  the  Witch 
Hazels  again  appeared  close  to  the  road  edge, 
making  a  lattice  through  which  shone  the  deep, 
brown -shadowed  water  of  the  double  pond,  the 
borders  now  dank  and  unlovely  with  decaying 
reeds,  weeds,  and  the  general  leaf  wreckage  that 
had  drifted  to  the  banks.  Soon  the  scene  changed 
swiftly,  and  there  followed  along  the  uphill  road- 
way to  the  Ridge  a  line  of  stunted  Red  Cedars, 
the  outer  branches  set  thick  with  frosted,  light 
blue  berries  rather  larger  than  those  the  Bayberry 
wears,  the  outline  of  the  pointed  tree -tops  against 
the  bare  steep  speeding  one  in  thought  far  north, 
almost  to  the  "Land  of  Little  Sticks." 

The  cross  -  road  on  the  hilltop  was  a  dreary 
stretch,  wind-swept  even  in  Summer.  Now  it  was 
difficult  to  see  how  the  scanty  growth  of  stunted 
Maples  and  a  few  Hazel  hedges  bound  by  Catbrier 
had  managed  to  cling  to  it.  Once  more  below, 

V 


338  AFTERMATH 

and  following  Time  o'  Year's  river  road  toward 
Tree -bridge,  tree  -  shrub  and  undergrowth  grew 
rich  again,  and  throughout  that  well-known  way, 
November  strung  for  us,  and  for  the  birds'  behoof, 
a  magic  rosary  of  Winter  berries  of  which,  as  the 
beads  should  be  told  over,  week  by  week,  one 
would  vanish,  then  another,  until,  when  not  one 
remained,  Spring  would  be  here. 

The  sound  of  the  ax  came  from  the  charcoal 
clearing  over  the  mountain  beyond  the  bridge,  but 
the  rumble  and  jar  of  the  clumsy  gear  of  the  old 
cider -mill  was  absent;  a  year  ago  its  belting  had 
been  unshipped  for  the  last  time.  The  door  of 
Time  o'  Year's  cabin  was  closed,  but  there  was 
the  fresh  earth  of  recent  footprints  on  the  step. 
Upon  the  window-sill  cracked  corn  was  scattered, 
a  bundle  of  unthreshed  rye  leaned  against  the 
well -curb,  and  a  shock  or  two  of  buckwheat  was 
propped  between  the  straggling  canes  of  the  half- 
wild  Blackberry  bushes,  while  a  fat  ham  rind  wired 
to  the  bluebirds'  apple  tree,  showed  that,  though 
human  hands  now  stretched  out  to  him,  this  fol- 
lower of  the  wood  path  was,  as  ever,  mindful  of 
his  winged  fellows  and  their  Winter  poverty, 

A  figure  appeared  a  few  rods  below  the  cabin, 
carrying  some  sort  of  burden  that  hid  the  face  at 


AFTERMATH  339 

first.  It  was  Time  o'  Year  with  his  gun,  an  arm- 
ful of  Hemlock,  Bittersweet,  stalks  of  Milkweed 
pods  and  Ground  Pine,  while  a  couple  of  quail 
were  hanging  round  his  neck  by  a  string. 

"What  have  you  been  doing?"  called  Flower 
Hat  gaily,  for  since  she  had  designed  his  twin 
family  trees, — Alois  in  the  apple  and  all, — the  old 
man  tolerated  her.  "Have  you  been  stealing  game 
and  had  it  fastened  around  your  neck  in  penalty,  as 
we  punished  our  setter  with  the  chickens  he  killed?" 

"No,"  said  Time  o'  Year,  "though  mebbe  Yes 
is  the   right  answer,  for  now  I  'm   in  the  na- 
tur'  of    a  provider,  1   've  been  for-    ^ 
agin',  as  you  can  see,  but  for  rea- 
son,  and  not  just  destroysome- 
ness.       The    doctor,    he 
allowed  a  taste  o'   game 
is    about  the  thing  to  perk 
up  little  school-ma'am's  ap- 
petite, and  these  here  grow- 
in'  things  '11  cheer  her  up 
while   the   posies  she   's 
filled  the  fore- 
room   winders 
with   gets    into 


34O  AFTERMATH 

"She  don't  want  that  foreroom  kept  dark  and 
closed  like  the  custom  hereabout,  and  so  I  've  took 
the  shutters  clean  off  and  let  the  sun  in  full,  for 
that  's  all  Doc  says  she  needs,  'Sun  and  fresh  air 
and  some'at  to  look  ahead  to,'  sez  he. 

"I  don't  half  so  much  mind  livin'  at  the  farm  's 
I  thought  to,  now  the  shutters  is  off  and  there  's 
no  dark  corners.  I  've  minded  that  's  what  all 
o'  us  are  hankerin'  for  in  this  world,  though  some 
don't  sense  it. 

"Yes,  the  vines  and  berries  is  nice,  and  as  good 
as  you  '11  find  this  time  o'  year.  I  'm  satisfied, 
too,"  he  continued,  answering  the  question  in  my 
eyes,  as  he  smoothed  his  silvery  beard,  in  which 
some  leaves  had  caught,  and  looking  dreamily  up 
across  the  hillside.  "Yes,  content,  though  jest 
only  a  stalk  of  wayside  Silkweed  goin'  to  seed 
natural  in  its  ha'nts  with  plenty  o'  sun  and  air 
and  —  something  to  look  ahead  for  that  the  eye 
can't  yet  see." 

Then,  a  rapt  expression  blending  with  his  far- 
off  smile,  he  continued  on  his  way,  the  load  of 
aftermath  falling  across  his  shoulders  like  a  Druid's 
garment. 

November,    Indian    Summer,    Aftermath,    all  too 


AFTERMATH 


341 


soon  vanish  in  leaf   smoke,  and  with  chilled  fingers 
we  tell  the  beads  of  the  rosary  of  Winter  berries. 

Outside  the  window  the  trellised  vine  loses  its 
last  leaf  and  seems  merely  a  part  of  its  support, 
and  soon  one  twilight  comes  when  the  frost  tra- 
ceries upon  the  window-panes  behind  the  flower- 
pots in  the  foreroom  conceal  the  wide  outdoors, 
and  all  the  Summer  left  to  us  is  of  the  heart. 
Then  the  Magician  bestows  his  final  woodland  gift 
— the  fire -logs  —  and  from  them  springs  the  hearth - 
flower  called  Love-of-Home,  not  to  be  lightly 
gathered,  but  cherished  in  its  haunt. 


INDEX   AND   GLOSSARY 

THE  English,  popular,  or  "common"  names  of  plants 
in  this  book  are  largely  those  given  in  Britton 
and  Brown's  "  Flora  of  the  Northern  United 
States  and  Canada."  When  a  flower  has  several  of  such 
titles,  either  the  most  characteristic  or  the  most  familiar 
has  been  used. 

As  botanical  nomenclature  and  spelling  are  undergoing 
a  transition  period,  the  Latin  equivalents  are  given  accord- 
ing to  the  code  of  Britton  and  Brown,  together  with 
the  variations  of  the  Cyclopedia  of  American  Horticulture, 
edited  by  L.  H.  Bailey.  The  Cyclopedia  will  be  the 
standard  for  nomenclature  in  garden  plants,  but  since  the 
present  book  deals  primarily  with  wild  plants,  the  Britton 
and  Brown  system  is  used  as  the  main  reliance. 

When  two  botanical  names  are  given,  the  second 
one,  in  italic,  is  the  Cyclopedic  variation,  and  this  is 
usually,  also,  in  agreement  with  the  last  revisions  of  Gray's 
Manual  and  Gray's  Field,  Forest  and  Garden  Botany. 

The  figures  in  parentheses  refer  to  illustrations. 

Page 
Adder's-Tongue,  Yellow    ....  Erythronium  Americanum    .  (4)  . 

9,  29,  100,  107,  180,  276 
Alder,  Black.     See  Winterberry. 
Alder,  White.     See  Sweet  Pepper-bush. 

Amanita,  Fly Amanita  muscaria  .    .  (160)   174;   172 

American  Centaury.     See  Sea  Pink. 

Anemone,  Rue Syndesmon  thalictroides  .  27,  107,  134 

(343) 


344  INDEX    AND     GLOSSARY 

Page 
Anemone,  Wood;  Wind  Flower  .  Anemone  quinquefolia    .    .    .    .  13,  27 

Angelica,  Purple-stemmed      .    .    .  Angelica  atropurpurea 

144,  149,  171,  176,  195 

Arbutus,  Trailing Epigaea  repens (14)  . 

14;   6,  8,  19,  32,  98,  100,  117,  296,  304,  332 

Arethusa      .    .    .   ^ Arethusa  bulbosa 140 

Arrowhead,  Broad-leaved   ....  Sagittaria  latifolia  ....  (48)  47,  89 

Arrow -wood,  Common Viburnum  dentatum .282 

Arrow- wood,  Maple-leaved    .    .    .  Viburnum  acerifolium     .    .    .  101,  282 

Artichoke,  Jerusalem Helianthus  tuberosus    ....  (83)  90 

Arum,  Water Calla  palustris 42 

Ash.  Prickly Xanthoxylum  Americanum      ...     82 

Aster,  Blue  Wood Aster  cordifolius 255 

Aster,  Early  Purple Aster  puniceus (256)  255 

Aster,  Flat-topped  .  f  Doellingeria  umbellata  )  _ 

(Aster  umbellatus  \ 

Aster,  Late  Purple Aster  patens 256 

Aster,  New  England Aster  Novae-Angliae     .    .    .  (264)  268 

Aster,  Pine  Starwort,  or  Stiff  Aster  .  lonactis  linariifolius 270 

Aster,  Purple  or  Violet  Wood    .    .  Aster  ianthinus 256 

Aster,  White  Heath      Aster  ericoides (257)  256 

Aster,  White  Wood Aster  divaricatus (266)   269 

Aster,  White  Wreath Aster  multiflorus (270)  270 

Azalea,  Flame       Azalea  lutea ,    27 

Azalea,  Pink,  Wild Azalea  nudiflora 26,  44,  100 

Azalea,  White  Swamp,  Clammy   .  Azalea  viscosa     .    .    .44,  51,  107,  no 

Bachelor's  Buttons Centaurea  Cyanus 89 

Balsam  Apple,  Wild  .  (Micrampelis  lobata  |   _ 

(Echinocystis  lobata  ) 

Baneberry,  White Actaea  alba      24,  102 

Bayberry Myrica  Carolinensis    .    .    .  (289)  . 

289;  5>  9>  90 

Beach  Pea .    .  Lathyrus  maritimus 302 

Bean,  Trailing  Wild Strophostyles  helvola    .    .    .  (303)  301 

Bearberry Arctostaphylos  Uva-Ursi     ....  302 

Bee  Balm,  American Monarda  didyma 73 

Beech  Drops,  False Hypopitys  Hypopitys   .    .    .  (112)   113 

Beggar's  Ticks,  Stick-tight    .    .    .  Bidens  frondosa 333 


INDEX    AND     GLOSSARY  345 

Page 

Bellwort,  Large-flowered     ....  Uvularia  grandiflora    ....     16,  100 

Bergamot,  Wild    .......      Monarda  fistulosa      .    .  (287)  288;  73 

Betony,  Wood    .....    .    .    .    .  Pedicularis  Canadensis   .    .    .    .25,76 

Bilberry  ...    .........  Vaccinium  uliginosum     .....  100 

Bindweed,  Hedge.     See  Convolvulus. 

Birch,  Black  ..........  Betula  lenta    ..........     31 

Bitter  Buttons.     See  Tansy. 

Bittersweet,  Shrubby  Climbing  .    .  Celastrus  scandens  ....  (329)  . 

304;   177,  287,  293,  297,  329 


Blackberry,  High  Bush     .    .    .  villosus         j  .285,338 

(Rubus  nigrobaccus  \ 
Blackberry,  Low  Bush     .....  Rubus  trivialis    .......  50,  285 

Black-eyed  Susan     .......  Rudbeckia  hirta    .    .    .  (251)  243,  248 

Blazing  Star    .  .    .  JL^naria  squarrosa  )  (       }  ^ 

(Ltatrts  squarrosa      ) 
Bloodroot    ...........  Sanguinaria  Canadensis  .    .  (28)  . 

13.  l6>  J34 
Blue  Bells  of  Scotland     .....  Campanula  rotundifolia  .....    72 

Blueberry,  Tall      ........  Vaccinium  virgatum    ....  100,  119 

Bluets  .............  Houstonia  coerulea    .......    27 

Blue-eyed  Grass    ........  Sisyrinchium  graminoides   ....  226 

Blueweed,  or  Viper's  Bugloss    .    .  Echium  vulgare  .........  83 

Boneset    ..........        .  Eupatorium  perfoliatum  .    .  (245)  243 

Bouncing  Betsy     ........  Saponaria  officinalis  .    .    .  (69)  73,  75 

Buckwheat,  Climbing  False    .    .    .  Polygonum  scandens    .    .    .  (314)  312 
Bunch-berry  ..........  Cornus  Canadensis   .......  101 

Bur  Reed,  Broad-fruited     .    .    .    .  Sparganium  eurycarpum  .    .      43,  116 

Bush  Ash.     See  Poison  Sumac. 

Butterfly-weed   .........  Asclepias  tuberosa    ....  (236)  234 

Butter-and-Eggs.     See  Toad  Flax. 

Button  Bush  .    .........  Cephalanthus  occidentalis    .  (40)  . 

40,  51,  no 
Calamint     ...........  Clinopodium  Calamintha    ....    74 

Calfkill.     See  Branch  Ivy. 

Calop  o     n  f  Limodorum  tuberosum  )  (142,  145) 

\Calopogonpulchellus     \    142,145,155 
Calypso  ............  Calypso  bulbosa   ......  127,  140 

Campion,  Starry    .......  Silene  stellata     .........  116 


346  INDEX    AND     GLOSSARY 

Page 
Candleberry Aleurites  triloba 290 

Caraway      Carum  Carui     .......    75,  102 

Cardinal  Flower    ........  Lobelia  cardinalis    .    .    .    .  54;  25,  89 

Carrion  Flower Smilax  herbacea    .....  (313)   311 

Carrot,  Wild  . Daucus  Carota     .(286)    144,  175,286 

Catbrier Smilax  rotundifolia     .    .    .  (339)  . 

306;   ii,  297,  337,  339 

Catnip,  Catmint Nepeta  Cataria (75)  75 ;  70 

Cat-tail,  Broad-leaved Typha  latifolia   .    .    .  (256,  325)  . 

591  43,  25°»  329 

Cedar,  Red Juniperus  Virginiana  .  (336)  306,  337 

Celandine Chelidonium  majus    ....      22,  223 

Chamomile,  Mayweed Anthemis  Cotula 69,  245 

Checkerberry.     See  Wintergreen. 

Cherry,  Bird Prunus  Pennsylvanica 306 

Cherry,  Black,  Wild    .    .   <    .   .    .  Prunus  serotina    .    .    .(183)   183,278 

Cherry,  Choke Prunus  Virginiana  .    .  (278)   180,  277 

Clear-eye Salvia  Sclarea 74 

Clematis.     See  Virgin's  Bower. 
Clethra.     See  Sweet  Pepper-bush. 

Clover,  Pink Trifolium  pratense 284 

Clover,  Rabbit's  Foot Trifolium  arvense    .    .  (285)  272,  284 

Clover,  White  Sweet,  Shamrock     .  Trofolium  repens 284 

Clover,  Yellow  Hop Trifolium  agrarium 283 

Cohosh,  Black Cimicifuga  racemosa    .        .  (116)  116 

Colic-root,  Star  Grass Aletris  farinosa     .    .    .  (191)   144,  195 

Columbine,  Red Aquilegia  Canadensis.(25)  24;   17,26 

Coneflower,  Green-headed  ....  Rudbeckia  laciniata    .    .    .     (251)  248 

Coneflower.     See  Black-eyed  Susan. 

Convolvulus,  Wild Convolvulus  sepium  .  (295,316)  . 

177,   220,    312 

Corncockle ( Agrostemma  Githago  j ig(j 

{Lychnis  Githago  ) 

Cornel,  Alternate- leaved     ....  Cornus  alternifolia 280 

Cornel,  Dwarf.     See  Bunch-berry. 

Cornel,  Silky Cornus  Amomum 280 

Cornel,  White-flowering.     See  Flowering  Dogwood. 

Coronilla,  Pink Coronilla  varia (81)   So 


INDEX    AND    GLOSSARY  347 

Crab  Apple,  American     .    .    .    .  f  Malus  coronaria  |       >(       }   ^j£ 

(Pyrus  coronana  ) 

Cranbeny,  American jOxycoccus  macrocarpus  |_  _ 

\Vaccinium  macrocarpon) 
Creeping  Sailor.     See  Kenilworth  Ivy. 

Daisy,  Ox-eye Chrysanthemum  Leucanthemum    . 

245;  69,  221,  223,  248 

,  ,.  (Taraxacum  Taraxacum  1245;   n,  69, 

Dandelion J  .  V  4 

(Taraxacum  officinale     j      221,  243 

Dangleberry Gaylussacia  frondosa 100 

Death  Cup Amanita  phalloides     ....  172,  174 

Devil's  Paint  Brush.     See  Hawkweed. 
Dockmackie.     See  Arrow-wood,  Maple-leaved. 

Dodder,  Love  Vine Cuscuta  Gronovii    .    .    .    .45,55,302 

Dogwood  Family      Cornaceae 98 

Dogwood,  Flowering Cornus  florida  ....  (94,  324)  . 

99,  101,  106,  213,  280,  322 

Dogwood,  Panicled  .        Cornus  candidissima    .    .    .  (324)   322 

Dogwood,  Red  Osier Cornus  stolonifera 280 

Dutchman's  Breeches fBicuculla  Cucullaria  )(         g) 

[Dicentra  Cucullaria  ) 
Elder,  Black-berried,  White-flow- 
ered      Sambucus  Canadensis    .    .  (279)  . 

286;   144,  279,  301 

Elder,  Red-berried               ....  Sambucus  pubens     .    .  (282)  279,  281 
Elecampane Inula  Helenium    ....  (76)   79;  69 

T,       .       ~  .  (Onagra  biennis       )  , 

Evening  Primrose J  .  > 226 

((Enotnera  biennis  ) 

Everlasting,  Early,  Plantain  Leaf  .  Antennaria  plantaginifolia      .    .    .  245 
Everlasting,  Fragrant  Life  ....  Gnaphalium  obtusifolium   .    .  243,  270 

(Fceniculum  Fceniculum 

\Fceniculum  vulgar ~e 
Five  Fingers.     See  Virginia  Creeper. 

Flag,  Large  Blue Iris  versicolor (37)  37,  223 

Flag,  Slender  Blue Iris  prismatica (219)  226 

Flag,  Sweet Acorus  Calamus 116 

Fleabane,  Salt  Marsh Pluchea  camphorata 59,  271 

Forget-me-not Myosotis  palustris 10 


348  INDEX    AND     GLOSSARY 

Page 

Foxglove,  Smooth  False    .    .    .    .  (Dasystoma  Virginica  )  (       }  • 

(  Gerardia  quercifoha  ) 
Fumitory,  Climbing,  or   Moun-    f  Adlumia  fungosa  |  ,        x 

tain  Fringe \Adlumia  cirrhosa  ) 

Gentian,  Blue  Fringed Gentiana  crinita     .    .(153,242). 

241;   10,  140,  152,  302 

Gentian,  Closed Gentiana  Andrewsii     .    .  (53)  55,  302 

Geranium,  Wild Geranium  maculatum  .          (32)    . 

25 ;  26,  223 

Gerardia,  Large  Purple       .    .    .    .  Gerardia  purpurea   .    .  (241)    120,240 
Gerardia,  Oak-leaved.     See  Foxglove,  Smooth  False. 

Gerardia,  Seaside Gerardia  maritima (59)  58 

Ghost  Flower.     See  Indian  Pipe. 

Ginger,  Wild Asarum  reflexum    ....  (12)   16,22 

Ginseng Panax  quinquefolium 117 

Ginseng,  Dwarf Panax  trifolium 24 

Glasswort,  Slender.     See  Samphire,  Marsh. 

Golden  Club Orontium  aquaticum 42 

Goldenrod,  Anise-scented  ....  Solidago  odora 251 

Goldenrod,  Blue-stemmed  ....  Solidago  csesia (249)  250 

Goldenrod,  Bush Euthamia  graminifolia 251 

Goldenrod,  Canada,  or  Swamp  .    .  Solidago  Canadensis    .  (256)  253,  323 

Goldenrod,  Cut- leaved Solidago  arguta 251 

Goldenrod,  Elm-leaved Solidago  ulmifolia 251 

Goldenrod,  Seaside Solidago  sempervirens  .    .    .  (269)  270 

Goldenrod,  Showy Solidago  speciosa 251 

Goldenrod,  Slender  Fragrant      .    .  Euthamia  Caroliniana     .    .(251)  251 
Goldenrod,  Stout  Ragged   ....  Solidago  squarrosa    ....  (269)  269 

Goose  Grass Puccinellia  maritima 55 

Grape,  Frost  or  Chicken     ....  Vitis  cordifolia (305)   308 

Grape,  Northern  Fox Vitis  Labrusca 307,  309 

Grape,  Riverside Vitis  vulpina 308,  310 

Grass  of  Parnassus Parnassia  Caroliniana  .    .    .    .  10,  241 

Grass  Pink.     See  Calopogon. 

Great  Bindweed.     See  Convolvulus,  Wild. 

Ground  Nut.     See  Hyacinth  Bean. 

Hawkweed,  Orange Hieracium  aurantiacum    .  (68)   68,  84 

Hawthorn Crataegus  Oxyacantha  .    .86,  277,  283 


INDEX    AND     GLOSSARY  349 

Page 
Heartsease Viola  tricolor 70 

Heath  Family Ericaceae    .    .    .  98,  100,  107,  113,  182 

Heather,  Beach  or  False Hudsonia  tomentosa 272 

Hellebore,     False,    or     American 

White Veratrum  viride   .    .    .  (4)  9,  100,  180 

Hemlock,  Poison Conium  maculatum  (157)  104,  174,  176 

Hemlock,  Water Cicuta  maculata 172,  225 

,    ,-,,.    ,.  ( Willughbaea  scandens  )          /       \ 

Hempweed,  Climbing vIL.      •  j  r  •  '•  (297)  297 

(.Mikama  scandens        J 

Hepatica,  or  Liverleaf  .  .   f  Hepatica  Hepaticaj     .    .    .  (vii)  . 

{Hepatica  tnloba    J    .    .  12;  8,  98,  107 
Hobble  Bush  .  ...  {Viburnum  alnifoliurn  j  joi>  ^ 

{Viburnum  lantanoiaes) 

(  Falcata  comosa  1 

Hog  Peanut \  .      r      •    -  55>  3OX 

{Amp  hi  carp  tea  monotca  ) 


Hollyhock Althea  rosea 80 

Honeysuckle,  Chinese  or  Japanese.  Lonicera  Japonica 81 

Honeysuckle,  Italian Lonicera  Caprifolium 81 

Honeysuckle,  Trumpet Lonicera  sempervirens  .    .    .  (306)   306 

Honeysuckle,  Wild.     See  Azalea,  Pink. 

Hop Humulus  Lupulus 312 

Hop  Hornbeam Ostrya  Virginiana      335 

Huckleberry Gaylussacia  resinosa 100 

Hyacinth  Bean,  Ground  Nut  .    .  J  Apios  Apios     I  ...  (300)  I2o,  301 

[Apios  tuber osa  ) 

Indian  Cucumber  Root Medeola  Virginiana 24,  102 

Indian  Fig  .  .  {  °Puntia  °Puntia  I 22g 

(  Opuntia  vulgaris  ) 

Indian  Pipe .    .  Monotropa  uniflora  .(108)   113595,97 

Indigo,  Wild  False Baptisia  tinctoria 149,  169 

Iris.     See  Flag. 

Ironweed Vernonia  Noveboracensis   .    .221,  243 

Ivy,  Branch Leucothoe  Catesbsei 183 

Ivy,  Poison (Rhus  radicans  |  (,62,163)  . 

(Rhus  Toxicodendron) 
162;  5,  158,  165,  294,  302,  304,  308,  321 

Jack-in-the-Pulpit Arisaema  triphyllum  .  (12)  118;  16,22 

Jamestown  Lily,  "White  Man's  Plant."     See  Jimson  Weed. 


350  INDEX    AND    GLOSSARY 

Page 
Jewel  Weed    ..........  Impatiens  biflora   ........    42 

Jill-over-the-Ground    ,  .  {Glecoma  hederacea  | 

\Nepeta  Glee  homo.    ) 

Jimson  (Jamestown)  Weed     .    .    .  Datura  Stramonium  .    .  (176)    172,  176 
Joe  Pye  Weed    .  •  ........  Eupatorium  purpureum      .  (245)  . 

243;   64,  249 
Johnny-jump-up.     See  Heartsease. 

Kenilworth  Ivy  ........  J  Cymbalaria  Cymbalaria  )   (     }  ' 

(  Linana  Cymbalaria         j 

Knotweed,  Pink    ........  Polygonum  Pennsylvanicum  (292)  . 

291  ;  90,  271 

Ladies'  Slipper.     See  Moccasin  Flower. 

Ladies'  Tresses,  Slender      ....  Gyrostachys  gracilis    .    .    .  (153)  . 

151;  n,  125,  128,  200,  241 

Ladies'  Tresses,  Nodding   ....  Gyrostachys  cernua  .......  152 

Lambkill.     See  Laurel,  Sheep. 

Larkspur,  Blue  Wild    ......  Delphinium  Menziesii      .....  181 

Larkspur,  Dwarf   ........  Delphinium  tricorne     ......  181 

Larkspur,  Wyoming     ......  Delphinium  Geyeri  .....        .181 

Laurel,  Mountain  ........  Kalmia  latifolia  .....  (101)  . 

104-106;  26,  39,  119,  159,  182,  219,  290,  336 

Laurel,  Sheep  or  Small-leaved    .    .  Kalmia  angustifolia     ....  106,  183 

Leek,  Wild     ..........  Allium  tricoccum  ........  100 

.  {Nabalus  albus 
{Prenanthes  alba 

Lilac    .............  Syringa  vulgaris    ........    66 

Lily,  Blackberry    .......    jGemmingia  Chinensisj  .    .  (78)  . 

{Belemcanda  Chtnensis)   .    .  85  ;  79,  87 

Lily,  Canada,  or  Meadow  ....  Lilium  Canadense  .    .  (229,  233)  , 

230;  220 

Lily  Family    ..........  Liliaceae   ..........  98,  127 

Lily-of-the-valley,  Wild.     See  Shinleaf. 

Lily,  Red  Day  .........  Hemerocallis  fulva     .    .    .  (82)  79,  82 

Lily,  Red  Wood    ........  Lilium  Philadelphicum  .    .  (231)  . 

231,  271 

Lily,  Tiger     ..........  Lilium  tigrinum    .    .    .85;  78,  84,  86 

Lily,  Turk's  Cap  ........  Lilium  superbum  .....  (232)  232 

Lily,  Yellow  Pond.     See  Pond  Lily,  Yellow. 


Lettuce,  White,  Wild    .  .  ) 

) 


INDEX    AND     GLOSSARY  351 

Page 
Live-forever Sedum  Telephium     .    .    .  (71)  72,  90 

Lizard's  Tail          .    .    » . ...   ....  Saururus  cernuus      .    .    .  (48)  45,  no 

Lobelia,  Great  Blue Lobelia  syphilitica 240 

Loco  .Weed,  Stemless Spiesia  Lamberti 182 

Loco  Weed,  Woolly     .   .    .   .    .    .  Astragalus  mollissimus  Torr  .    .       182 

Loosestrife,  Swamp    ......    .  Decodon  verticillatus     .    .  (49,  50)  49 

Loosestrife,  Yellow   .......  Lysimachia  vulgaris 234 

Lotus,  American Nelumbo  lutea    .,.,-.....    45 

Maianthemum.     See  Solomon's  Seal,  Two-leaved. 

Mallow,  Rose Hibiscus  Moscheutos    .    .    .  (60)  . 

59,  120,  143,  271 
Mandrake.     See  May  Apple. 

Marjoram Origanum  vulgare 74,  84 

Marsh  Marigold Caltha  palustris (n) 

n,  28,  37,  119,  136,  276 

Matrimony  Vine,  or  Box  Thorn     .  Lycium  vulgare 84 

May  Apple Podophyllum  peltatum    .  (22)  23,  208 

Meadow  Beauty Rhexia  Virginica 240 

Meadow  Rue,  Tall  Late      ....  Thalictrum  polygamum.(229)  230,  309 
Meadow  Sweet Spiraea  salicifolia  .  (229,  280)  229,  281 

Milkweed,  Common,  or  Silkweed  {  AscleP.ia9  Syriacal  •    <24°>  3»5)  • 

(Asclepias  cornuti  )     235,  253,  312,  328 

Milkweed,  Four- leaved Asclepias  quadrifolia    .    .    .  (109)   108 

Milkweed,  Purple Asclepias  purpurascens    .....  235 

Milkweed,  Swamp Asclepias  incarnata 235 

Milkwort,  Purple  ........  Polygala  viridescens 144 

Mint,  Wild Mentha  rotundifolia 74 

Mitrewort,  False Tiarella  cordifolia .    24 

Moccasin  Flower,  Pink Cypripedium  acaule    .    .    .  (132)  . 

132;  97,  123,  126 

Moccasin  Flower,  Showy    .    .    .     {Cypripedium  reginae      )        (       } 

(Cypripedium  spectabile  ) 

Moccasin  Flower,  Yellow     .    .    .  f  Cypripedium  hirsutum  )          (       } 

{Cypripedium  pubescens) 

Moneywort Lysimachia  Nummularia      ....    71 

Monkey  Flower,  Square-stemmed  .  Mimulus  ringens 42 

Moonwort Botrychium  Lunaria n 

Morning- Glory,  Wild.     See  Convolvulus. 


352  INDEX    AND     GLOSSARY 

Moss  Pink  ....        Phlox  subulata m 

Mountain  Fringe.     See  Climbing  Fumitory. 

Mullein,  Common Verbascum  Thapsus     .    .    .    .233,312 

Mullein,  Moth Verbascum  Blattaria 288 

Mushroom,  Meadow Agaricus  campestris      ....  172-174 

Nanny  Berry.     See  Sheepberry. 

Nightshade,  Black Solanum  nigrum (178)    178 

Nightshade,  Climbing Solanum  Dulcamara  .    .    .  (177)  . 

85,    177,    3J2 

Oak,  Poison,  or  California  Poison 

Sumac Rhus  diversiloba 167 

"Old  Fog"  Grass,  Virginia  Beard- 
grass    Andropogon  Virginicus 326 

Orchis,  Ragged Habenaria  lacera (^s)   149 

Orchis,  Showy Orchis  spectabilis (134)   *34 

Orchis,  Yellow  Fringed Habenaria  ciliaris     .    .    .  (150)  . 

148;   150,  155 
Orpine.     See  Live-forever. 
Oswego  Tea.     See  Bee  Balm. 

Painted  Cup Castilleja  coccinea  .    .    .    .25,  26,  223 

Parsnip,  Cow Heracleum  lanatum      ....  144,  225 

Partridge  Pea .  Cassia  Chamaecrista     ....  234,  287 

Partridge  Vine  or  Berry Mitchella  repens (33 1)  . 

no;  40,  173,  296,  330 

Peppermint Mentha  piperita 84 

Phlox,  Garden Phlox  paniculata 90 

Phlox,  Wild  Blue Phlox  divaricata (in)   in 

Pickerel  Weed Pontederia  cordata     .  (44),  34,  45,  89 

Pigeon  Berry,  or  Garget.     See  Pokeweed. 
Pinxter- flower.     See  Azalea,  Pink. 
Pipsissewa,     Spotted,     or    Spotted 

Wintergreen Chimaphila  maculata  .  (115)  114,  117 

Pipsissewa.     See  Prince's  Pine. 

Pitcher-plant      Sarracenia  purpurea     ....  (43)  42 

Plantain,  Robin's f  Erigeron  P^hellus    ) 

\Engeron  belhdifolius) 

Plantain,  Water (Alisma  Plantago  aquatica  j  ^ 

\Ahsma  Plantago  ) 


INDEX    AND    GLOSSARY  353 

Page 
Plum,  Beach Prunus  maritima 149,  271 

Pogonia,  Rose Pogonia  ophioglossoides 

125,  140,  142,  152 

Poison  Ash,.  Dogwood,  Elder,  Sumac.     See  Sumac. 
Poison  Hemlock.     See  Hemlock. 
Poison  Ivy.     See  Ivy. 

Pokeweed Phytolacca  decandra     .    .    .  (179)  179 

Pond  Lily,  Yellow (Nymphaea  advena)        38 

(Nupnar  advena    j 
Poppy,  Mexican Argemone  Mexicana 89 

Prickly  Pear  .  .    J°Puntia  °P«ntia  I  .      (22g)  22O,  228 

[Opuntia  vulgaris) 

Prince's  Feather    .....        .    .  Polygonum  orientale 90 

Prince's  Pine      ..........  Chimaphila  umbellata      ....  117 

Privet Ligustrum  vulgare  ....  82,  86,  306 

PussyWillow Salix  discolor  .  (i)  276;  6,  16,  321,  332 

Pyrola.     See  Shinleaf. 

Pyxie Pyxidanthera  barbulata  .    .    .  302,  304 

Raspberry,  Purple-,  or  Rose-flow- 
ering   Rubus  odoratus    .    .    .  (290)  287,  291 

Rattlebox Crotalaria  sagittalis 182 

Rattlesnake  Plantain     .....    fPeramium  pubescens)  ( 154)  i55  5   125, 

[  Goodyera  pubesc e ns  J        140,  150,  188 
Red-bell.     See  Columbine. 
Red-ink  Plant.     See  Pokeweed. 
Rhododendron,  American,  or  Rose 

Bay Rhododendron  maximum    .... 

104-106;  26,  159,  183 

Rice  Grass,  or  Wild  Rice  ....  Zizania  aquatica 271,  326 

Rose  Campion.     See  Corncockle. 

Rose,  Cinnamon Rosea  cinnamomea 82 

Sabbatia.     See  Sea  Pink. 

Samphire,  Marsh Salicornia  herbacea  .  (51)  59;  50,271 

Sarsaparilla,  Wild Aralia  nudicaulis  .    .    .    (103)  24,102 

Sassafras  .  .  j8398^  Sa!safra*    I I7g 

[Sassafras  offictnale  j 

Savory Satureia  hortensis 75 

Saxifrage Saxifraga  Virginiensis     .    .    .    .  13,  16 

W 


354  INDEX    AND    GLOSSARY 

Page 
Sea  Lavender Limonium  Carolinianum     ....  121 

Sea  Pink      ......    .    .    .    .    .  Sabbatia  stellaris   ........    59 

Self- Heal    .    .    .    .    .        .    .    ,    .    .  Prunella  vulgaris 76 

Senna,  Wild   .    .    .    . Cassia  Marylandica      287 

Service  Berry      .    -. Amelanchier  Canadensis     .    .    .    .271 

Shadbush    ......*....  Amelanchier  Botryapium    .  (30)  . 

30;  15,  19,  275 

Sheepberry,  Black  Thorn     ....  Viburnum  Lentago 282 

Sheep  Sorrel Rumex  Acetosella 228 

Shinleaf,  or   Round-leaved   Win- 

tergreen      Pyrola  rotundifolia (93)   in 

Shooting  Star,  American  Cowslip  .  Dodecatheon  Meadia    .    .    .    .  (95)  95 
Silkweed.     See  Milkweed,  Common. 

Silver  Rod  .    .    .    .    ....    .    .    .  Solidago  bicolor (251)  250 

Skunk  Cabbage Spathyema  foetida     .    .    .    .(4,8). 

8,  14,  69,  180,  219 
Snake-mouth.     See  Pogonia. 
Sneezeweed.     See  Sunflower,  Swamp. 
Snow  on  the  Mountain.     See  Spurge,  White-margined. 

Solomon's  Seal,  False  (Vagnera  racemosa     j  (17). 

(Smilacina  racemosa  j    .    .    16,  28,  139 

Solomon's  Seal,  Larger  .   (P'lygonatum  commutatum  j  l6 

[Polygonatum  giganteum      ) 

Solomon's  Seal,  Two-leaved    .    .  {Unifolium  Canadense  )   .  28, 

\Maianthemum  Convallana  j    100,139 

Spearmint Mentha  spicata 74,  77 

Spice  Bush  .  .   (Benzoin  Benzoin       \   .    .    (333)  . 

(Benzoin  odoriferum  j    .    .    n,  69,  330 

Spikenard Aralia  racemosa 116 

Spirea,  Meadow  Sweet.     See  Meadow  Sweet. 

Spring  Beauty Claytonia  Virginica    .  (19,  28)  21,  88 

Spurge,  Caper Euphorbia  Lathyris 170 

Spurge,  Cypress Euphorbia  Cypam-sias    .  (71)  71,  170 

Spurge,  White-margined     ....  Euphorbia  marginata 170 

Squaw  Weed      Senecio  obovatus 29 

St.  John's-wort,  Common    ....  Hypericum  perforatum 234 

Staggerbush Pieris  Mariana (^i)   183 

Starflower.     See  Chickweed  Wintergreen. 


INDEX     AND     GLOSSARY  355 

Page 

Star  Grass,  Yellow    .......  Hypoxis  hirsuta     .    .    .    (227)  29,  226 

Star  of  Bethlehem      Ornithogalum  umbellatum  ....    69 

Steeple  Bush Spiraea  corymbosa  .  (286)  42,  230,  281 

Sumac,  Dwarf  Upland Rhus  copallina 292 

Sumac,  Poison     .....    .    .    .  {Rhus  V«nix      I  •    •  ('68>  l68=   >&' 

(Rnus  venenata  )       167,  192,  197,  292 

Sumac,  Smooth  or  Scarlet    ....  Rhus  glabra 292 

Sumac,  Staghorn  .  IRhus  hirta      1  .  (294)  292 

(Rhus  typhtna  j 

0      ,  f  Kneiffia  fruticosa       )      /      f\       f 

Sundrops \  }-  .  (226)  226,  271 

I  (Enothera  fruticosa  ) 

Sunflower,  Brook Bidens  laevis  .    .    .  (243,260)253;  333 

Sunflower,  Common  Garden   .    .      Helianthus  annuus  .  (246)  90,  120,  221 

Sunflower,  Swamp Helenium  autumnale  ....  160,  171 

Sunflower,  Giant Helianthus  giganteus  ....  244,  248 

Sweet  Cicely,  Smooth    .    .    .    .    .   fWashingtonia  longistylis  )    .103,  176 

(Osmorhtza  longistylis        ) 
Sweetbrier Rosa  rubiginosa 229 

Sweet  Fern ( Comptonia  peregrina      ) 

(Comptonia  asplemjolia  ) 
Sweet  Pepper-bush,  White  Alder  .  Clethra  alnifolia  .  (52)  51,107,110,239 

Sweet  William,  Wild Phlox  maculata in 

Tansy,  or  Bitter  Buttons Tanacetum  vulgare    .    .       (275) 

248;  69,  274 
Tear-Thumb,  Halberd-leaved  .    .  Polygonum  arifolium      .297;  55,312 

Thistle,  Bur Carduus  lanceolatus 248 

Thistle  Family Composite      244 

Thistle,  Scotch Onopordon  Acanthium 247 

Thistle,  Yellow Carduus  spinosissimus     .    .    .  226,  247 

Thornapple,  Stinkweed.     See  Jimson  Weed. 

Thorn,  Cockspur Crataegus  Crus-Galli 276 

Thorn,  Scarlet Crataegus  coccinea 277 

Thyme,  Wild         Thymus  Serpyllum   .    .    .   (75)  70,  75 

Thorn,  Yellow-fruited  Dwarf    .    .  Crataegus  uniflora      276 

Toad  Flax,  Yellow    ,  .  {Linaria  Linfria.    I       .  (2j6)  72,  234 

(Linana  vulgans  ) 

Trientalis.     See  Chickweed  Wintergreen. 


356  INDEX    AND    GLOSSARY 

Page 
Trillium,  Large  White Trillium  grandiflorum    .    .    (96)  . 

100 ;  99,  192 
Trillium,  Red,  Ill-scented  .    .    .    .  Trillium  erectum    ...    (15)   16,134 

Trumpet  Creeper Tecoma  radicans 79 

Turtlehead      .    . Chelone  glabra     .    .    .    .(33)   55,200 

Twayblade,  Fen  Orchis    .    .    .       f  Leptorchis  Loeselii) 

[Ltparis  Lceselii       j 
Twayblade,  Large  Lily-leaved    .  jLeptorchis  liliifolia)   .    .      (138)  . 

[ Liparis  liliifolia       J    138;  137,1 46, 155 

Twin  Flower Linnaea  borealis 296 

Viburnum,  Maple-leaved.     See  Arrow-wood. 
Viburnum,  Sweet.     See  Sheepberry. 

Violet,  Bird's- Foot Viola  pedata 22 

Violet,  Blue  Palmate Viola  palmata 21 

Violet,  Canada Viola  Canadensis      22 

Violet,  Dog's  Tooth.     See  Adder's-Tongue. 

Violet,  Downy  Yellow Viola  pubescens     ....  22,107,134 

Violet,  Lance-leaved Viola  lanceolata 22 

Violet,  Smooth  Yellow      Viola  scabriuscula         .    .  22,  107,  134 

Violet,  Sweet  White  (English)  .    .  Viola  odorata         22,  70 

Violet,  Wild  Sweet Viola  blanda 22 

Virginia  Creeper     ,  .  (Parthenocissus  quinquefolia 

{Ampelopsis  quinquefolia 
(163,  302,  327)  307;   50,  162,  294,  297,  304,  328 

Virgin's  Bower Clematis  Virginiana  .  (299)  . 

298;   306,  328 
Wake  Robin.     See  Trillium,  Red. 

f  Castalia  odorata      |  .    .    .     (44) 

,39.45,222 
Waxwork.     See  Bittersweet. 
Wayfaring  Tree.     See  Hobble  Bush. 
White  Thorn.     See  Hawthorn. 
White-weed.     See  Daisy,  Ox-eye. 
Willow,  Glaucous.     See  Pussy  Willow. 
Willow  Herb.     See  Loosestrife,  Swamp. 
Wind-flower.     See  Anemone,  Wood. 

Winterberry,  or  Black  Alder  .    .    .  Ilex  verticillata  .    .  (321)  120,  224,  321 
Wintergreen,  or  Checkerberry    .    .  Gaultheria  procumbens  .  75;  24,98,219 


Water  Lily,  Fragrant  White    .    .  |Castalia  odorata      I  •    •    •     ( 

(Nympnaa  odorata  j    38;  34,^ 


INDEX    AND    GLOSSARY  357 

Page 

Wintergreen,  Chickweed     ....  Trientalis  Americana    ....  24,  103 

Witch  Hazel Hamamelis  Virginiana  .    .  (334)  . 

332;   11,96,  136,  337 
Woodbine.     See  Virginia  Creeper. 

Yam,  Wild .    .  Dioscorea  villosa (3IQ)  311 

Yarrow Achillea  Millefolium 269 


FERNS 

Beech  Fern,  Broad Phegopteris  hexagonoptera  .  (215),  206 

Brake (Pteridium  aquilinum 

(  Ptens  aquilina 
Christmas  Fern   .......      JDryopteris  acrostichoides  ) 

{Aspidtum  acrostichoid.es   ) 

104,  187,  197,  290,  322,  330 

Cinnamon  Fern Osmunda  cinnamomea  .  (185,192)  . 

193;   18,  30,  123 

Clayton's,  or  Interrupted  Fern  .  .  Osmunda  Claytoniana  .  (185)  192;  123 
Climbing,  or  Hartford  Fern  .  .  .  Lygodium  palmatum  .  .  .  (185)  189 
Common  Rock  Fern.  See  Polypody. 

Flowering  Fern     ........  Osmunda  regalis 191 

Grape  Fern,  Ternate Botrychium  ternatum    .    .    .  (203)  203 

Grape  Fern,  Virginia    ......  Botrychium  Virginicum  .    .        .    .  203 

Hay-Scented  Fern (Dennstaedtia  punctilobula)^)  . 

{Dicksonia  ptlostuscula        )         53,  207 
Interrupted  Fern.     See  Clayton's  Fern. 

Lady  Fern Asplenium  Filix-fcemina  .   (199)  . 

198;   1 88,  204 

Maidenhair Adiantum  pedatum     .    .    .  (218)  . 

2I3I  39>  x^9>  2°8»  211,  302 

Marsh  Shield  Fern fDryop.eris  Thelyp.erisj        (       } 

(Asptdium  Tnelyptens    ) 

Meadow  Fern Comptonia  peregrina 152 

New  York  Fern (Dryopteris  Noveboracense  )(aoo)>  ^ 

\Aspidium  Noveboracense    ) 

Polypody,  Common Polypodium  vulgare   .    .    .  (197)  . 

195;   104,  187,  322 


358  INDEX    AND     GLOSSARY 

Page 
Royal  Fern Osmunda  regalis  .  ( 194)  193;  123,142 

Sensitive  Fern Onoclea  sensibilis      ....  (201)  202 

Shield  Fern,  Crested  .    ....    .   f  Dryopteris  cristata 

(Asptaium  cnstatum 

Shield  Fern,  Spinulose      ....   pryopteris  spinulosa    |      .  (204) 

[Aspidium  sptnulosum   j 

Spleenwort,  Ebony Asplenium  ebeneum    .  (216)  217,  322 

Spleenwort,  Maidenhair Asplenium  Trichomanes  .  (211)  . 

209,  217 

Spleenwort,  Silver Asplenium  Thelypteroides      .    .    . 

(205,  209)  205 
Walking  Fern Camptosorus  rhizophyllus    .  (188)   189 

Wood  Fern,  Evergreen    . 


(DryopterismarginalisK^ 
{Aspidtum  marginale    ) 


CLUB     MOSSES,    ETC. 

Bog  Club  Moss     .........  Lycopodium  inundatum 116 

Creeping  Selaginella, or  Scale  Moss.  Selaginella  apus 116 

Ground  Pine Lycopodium  obscurum 

39,  94,  104,  115,  219,  290,  296,  304,  336 

Shining  Club  Moss Lycopodium  lucidulum   .    .    .116,  304 

Trailing  Christmas  Green  .    .    .    .  Lycopodium  complanatum  .    .    .    .115 


Four-Footed  Americans  and  Their  Kin 

By  MABEL   OSGOOD   WRIGHT 

Edited  by  FRANK  M.  CHAPMAN.  Illustrated  by  ERNEST  SETON-THOMPSON 
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"  It  deserves  commendation  for  its  fascinating  style,  and  for  the  fund  of  information  which 
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The  text,  by  Mrs.  Wright,  has  all  of  the  fascination  that  distinguishes  her  other  outdoor 
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Citizen    Bird 

Scenes  from  Bird- life  in  plain  English  for  a  Beginner 
By  MABEL  O.  WRIGHT  and  Dr.  ELLIOTT  COUES 

Profusely  illustrated   by  Louis  AGASSIZ   FUERTES 
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"There  is  no  other  book  in  existence  so  well  fitted  for  arousing  and  directing  the  interest 
that  all  children  feel  toward  the  birds." — Tribune,  Chicago. 

Birdcraft 

A  Field- Book  of  Two  Hundred  Song,  Game  and  Water  Birds 
By  MABEL   OSGOOD   WRIGHT 

With  eighty  full-page   plates  by  Louis  AGASSIZ   FUERTES 

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O.  WRIGHT,  has  peculiar  merits  that  will  endear  it  to  amateur  ornithologists.  ...  A  large 
number  of  excellent  illustrations  throw  light  on  the  text  and  help  to  make  a  book  that  will 
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— Saturday  Evening  Gaxette,  Boston. 

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Tommy -Anne  and  the  Three  Hearts 

By  MABEL   OSGOOD   WRIGHT 

With   many  illustrations  by  ALBERT  D.  BLASHFIELD 
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One  Tommy-Anne  is  worth  a  whole  shelf  of  the  average  juvenile  literature." — The  Critic. 

Wabeno,  the  Magician 

The  Sequel  to   Tommy -Anne  and  the   Three  Hearts 
By  MABEL  OSGOOD  WRIGHT 

Fully    illustrated    by   JOSEPH    M.    GLEESON 
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The  Dream   Fox  Story   Book 

By   MABEL   OSGOOD   WRIGHT 

With    80    Drawings    by    OLIVER    HERFORD 
Cloth  Small  quarto  $1.50  net 

Mrs.  Wright's  new  book  for  young  people  recounts  the  marvelous  adventures  of  Billy  Ben- 
ton,  his  acquaintance  with  the  Dream  Fox  and  the  Night  Mare,  and  what  came  of  it.  It  differs 
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There  are  eight  full-page  illustrations,  showing  Billy  at  moments  of  greatest  interest  and 
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who  has  entered  thoroughly  into  the  spirit  of  the  text,  so  that  the  pictures  seeem  an  integral  part 
of  the  story. 


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